


Time's Arrow and the Table Round

by scribblemoose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History keeps repeating itself, and it's up to Kilgharrah and Taliesyn to make sure things go right this time. Can Merlin put destiny back on track and make sure Albion gets its happy ending?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The wind whistled through the mountains, whipping the mist around peaks and through valleys, and blew shallow drifts of snow into the mouth of the cave. The air and stone were cold as ice, and yet the snow melted as soon as it touched the walls or floor of the cave, hissing into water and steam. Thin trickles of gold streamed along the walls in wavering seams, deeper and deeper into the mountain, the passage cave-wide, walls scored with claw-marks, and here and there scorched in streaks where the rock had melted and dripped towards the floor.

In the distance a light could be seen: the golden, flickering light of a torch; and there were voices.

The time grows close," said Taliesyn. "Arthur has chosen his Queen."

"Is that so?" replied the Dragon, in a voice like paper rustling in a cave. "So soon."

"Emrys should be warned."

"I'm not sure. In this new time Guinevere is so different. She's just a serving girl. She has no noble lineage. She has no place at court. Perhaps this time she has no part to play."

"I fear otherwise. Arthur would marry her. His love burns as strong as ever."

"And hers?"

"Interestingly, perhaps more than might be expected. But temptation will come and when it does it is by no means certain that she will choose Arthur. It is up to Emrys to tip the balance in the King's favour."

"I fail to see what Merlin could do about it. He is a boy, still, in many ways. He knows nothing of romance, or threats to women's hearts."

Taliesyn smiled mysteriously. "Is that so?"

The Dragon narrowed his eyes. "You know otherwise?"

Taliesyn shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm sure he would have told me," the Dragon said.

"You were always too busy pushing him at Arthur."

"Arthur is where his destiny lies. To have done otherwise would have been no less than foolish."

Taliesyn paced back and forth, turning the crystal in his hand. "And yet it comes to nought. I confess, my old friend, I see no clear path through this. The future is murky at best and we have been thwarted so often. The memories are so many now I fear…."

"I believe this is the last chance for Albion," said the Dragon. "If we fail this time the land is truly doomed."

Taliesyn put a steady hand on the dragon's leg, warm skin on cool scales.

"Then we must not fail. Our task is clear. To warn Emrys of the threat and let him see to it that Arthur is not betrayed."

"Indeed," the Dragon said. "I shall speak to him."

"I could show him a future. He might not believe such a thing of his future Queen otherwise."

"Merlin does not trust the crystals."

"He doesn't always trust you either."

The Dragon swished his tail irritably. "If he fails to listen to me, we will take more drastic measures."

Taliesyn considered this for a moment, then nodded. "So be it. I shall take my leave for now, old friend." He bowed deeply, and turned to walk away.

"Romance?" the Dragon said. "Merlin? Really?"

Taliesyn smiled a little smile. "The Lady of the Lake, no less."

"The Lady?" said the Dragon, astonished.

"Indeed."

And then the Dragon laughed, the bellowing sound of it echoing around the cave, rumbling through the mountain like thunder.

It rang in Taliesyn's ears as he disappeared through the mists.


	2. Part I

"It's a lovely day," Merlin said, flinging open Arthur's windows. "You should get out. Get some fresh air."

"I'm Prince Regent." Arthur's voice was muffled by several layers of bedclothes. "I can't just go for a walk whenever I feel like it."

Merlin considered this, picking up Arthur's shirt from the heap of clothes he'd dumped by the window. "I think technically you can. Who's going to stop you?"

"Duty, Merlin. Responsibilities. What day is it?"

"Tuesday, Sire."

"Oh God." Arthur whumped his face into the pillow and mumbled something that was probably, "Council."

"If you ask me," said Merlin, waving Arthur's shirt out of the window, "You're in danger of getting a bit jaded. No-one likes a jaded prince."

"A jade what?"

"Jad _ed_. It means-"

"I know perfectly well what it means, Merlin. And I'm not. I'm fresh as a… I'm perfectly fresh." Arthur shoved the bedclothes back and sat up. "Where's my breakfast?"

"Over here, on the table." Merlin sniffed the shirt dubiously, shrugged and tossed it over the back of a chair.

"Merlin."

"Yes, Sire?"

"Do you think you could possibly bring my breakfast over here?" Arthur's voice dripped sarcasm. "If it's not too much trouble?"

"Of course, Sire. I just thought you'd be keen to get up. Seeing as you have so much to do."

"Merlin," Arthur growled.

"All right, all right, keep your hair on." Merlin picked up the breakfast tray and took it to the bed. Arthur glared at him; Merlin smiled benignly and went back to Arthur's clothes pile.

There was quiet for a while as Arthur tucked into eggs and toasted muffins, and Merlin exposed Arthur's clothing to as much fresh air as possible. It was a companionable sort of silence; they didn't get a lot of time alone these days unless there was a crisis on, and Merlin enjoyed it rather a lot. It reminded him of simpler times, when Arthur wasn't ruling the Kingdom or courting Gwen, both of which seemed to Merlin to be causing Arthur a good deal more anxiety than he'd expected.

"This afternoon," Arthur said, just as Merlin tossed the last of his shirts onto the aired pile. "I'll cut training short and we can go and catch some hare in the forest. You're right, Merlin. I think that's just what I need."

"Do you want me to assemble a hunting party?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll go alone."

"Completely alone? Do you think that's wise, Sire? Bandits have been seen in the forests and-"

"Well, you'll be there, Merlin. You'll just have to protect me yourself."

With a grin, Arthur leapt out of bed, ready to face the day.

*

Arthur was good to his word. After only an hour of battling each other with wooden clubs, he gave the Knights the rest of the afternoon off. The Knights were as grateful as they were surprised; especially Sir Leon, who had been sparring with Gwaine. Gwaine's history of brawling in unsuitable establishments sometimes paid off.

"It's not a very noble weapon," Leon grumbled.

"They're all designed to do the same thing," Gwaine said. "Sword or lump of wood, just a tool at the end of the day."

"That's true," said Lancelot, passing the sweating Leon a waterskin. "But swords are so much better for the job."

Gwaine just shrugged.

Merlin and Arthur made their way to the stables, where horses were saddled and ready for them. Arthur had wiped himself free of sweat and donned a clean shirt, but he still looked flushed and hot from training. Once clear of the Castle they rode hard, the wind rushing, blessedly cool, through their hair. When they reached the river, Arthur stopped.

"What about a swim, Merlin?"

"Good idea," said Merlin, wrinkling his nose. "You are a bit sweaty."

Arthur barely waited until Merlin had got rid of his clothes before he dunked him in the water. But Merlin didn't care; swimming was one of the rare things he did better than Arthur, and the water felt so cool and soothing on his naked skin he could easily have stayed in the river until sundown. Even if Arthur did keep grabbing for his legs and splashing at him whenever he swam close.

An hour later, they were sitting on a large, flat bit of rock, dangling their feet in the water. Merlin was pleasantly tired and sleepy, and wished briefly to be a lizard so he could bask like this all day and never have to polish armour again.

"I've been thinking," Arthur said.

"Dangerous."

Arthur shot him a quick glare.

"Sorry," said Merlin, grinning.

"I've been thinking about asking Gwen to marry me."

Merlin's grin softened, and he nudged Arthur in the ribs; if he felt a pang of sadness he didn't let it show. "'Bout time, if you ask me."

"You think it's a good idea?"

"Of course I do! Anyone can see the two of you love each other. It'll be good for the Kingdom, too. It'll show them you mean what you say about equality and honour."

"Yes. My father wouldn't approve, of course."

"Perhaps not, but… well, he'll come round. When he's better."

Arthur sighed. "It's been years, Merlin. Even Gaius seems to have given up hope."

Merlin didn't answer.

"So this is it," Arthur said. "Marriage."

They exchanged a look; an acknowledgement of something that belonged to a very long time ago, before Freya and before Gwen and everything they'd been through since.

Merlin nodded, once. Not because his heart didn't ache for that other thing, but because Gwen and Arthur were dear friends and in love with each other, and even Merlin couldn't live in the past.

Well, he probably could if he set his mind to it. But he didn't fancy it.

They shared a little smile, and then Arthur cleared his throat and said, "I suppose there should be a proclamation of some kind."

"I think you should ask Gwen, first."

"Of course! There will be a betrothal ceremony and-"

"No, I mean you should _ask_ her. In person. Just her. You and her. Well, unless you want to risk getting turned down in public."

"Turned down?" Arthur swallowed hard. "You really think she might…?"

Merlin laughed at him. "Of course not. But girls don't like to be taken for granted. You should ask her somewhere romantic. There should probably be flowers. And candles."

"And you're the expert because….?

Merlin tapped the side of his nose. "That would be telling, Arthur."

Arthur gave Merlin a shove, which unbalanced Merlin completely. He slid off the rock and landed in the river with a huge splash.

Fortunately he had the presence of mind to grab Arthur's ankle and pull him in with him.

*

Merlin had just collapsed into bed when the noise in his mind started.

He groaned, and pulled his pillow over his head. He wanted sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep. His body was all glowy-tired from the swimming on top of the usual exhaustion from a hard day's work; he was relaxed and perhaps a bit happy and his bed felt so, so nice.

~ _Merlin_ ~

It was dark. It was late. The last thing he wanted to do was run through the woods to the clearing. But that voice, of all voices, was irresistible.

~ _Merlin_ ~

"Oh, all right," he muttered. "I'm coming, you stupid lizard."

*

Kilgharrah was waiting for him in the usual place. Wings folded at his sides, the huge dragon waddled about, eyeing a boulder rather hungrily. (It had surprised Merlin to discover that dragons actually ate mostly rock, and not people at all. But it didn't stop Kilgharrah looking at Merlin as though he might _like_ to eat him sometimes, which was still unnerving.)

"Merlin," the Great Dragon said, extending its neck to survey Merlin with a beady golden eye. "You look tired, young warlock."

"You just dragged me out of bed," said Merlin. "Of course I look tired."

"I cannot approach the Castle in daylight. You know this."

"Yes, yes. I know. What's this about, anyway? Are you all right?"

"Your concern is touching, young warlock, but I assure you I am in good health. How are things at court?"

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "What do you care? I thought you hated all that stuff."

"There are certain things in which I have a keen interest. Such as the future Queen of Camelot."

"You mean Gwen? Why? You've never said anything before."

"She wasn't the future Queen of Camelot before."

Merlin shrugged. "Pretty likely, though. For the past couple of years, Arthur's had eyes for no-one else."

Kilgharrah slumped sadly, his huge head shaking from side to side, and Merlin's stomach sank.

"What's wrong with Gwen?" he said, his voice flat.

"I am afraid that if she were to join in union with the young Pendragon, it will cause both of them nothing but misery."

"How can you possibly know that? They love each other! They've waited all this time, gone through so much, and now, suddenly, you come here and tell me they'll… Why?! What could go wrong?"

"Ah, Merlin,' said Kilgharrah sadly. "I see you haven't yet learned very much of love."

"I know all about love. I know that Gwen is a good person. She has the biggest, truest heart in the world and she'd do anything for anyone. How could she possibly be bad for Arthur?"

"If she loves all the world, what is special about Arthur? If her heart is so big, can it exist if only bound to his?"

"What? You're making absolutely no sense at all!"

Kilgharrah remained calm as Merlin's fury grew; waited patiently while Merlin fretted and paced. "Whatever you think you know," Merlin said, eventually, "I know Gwen. She would never hurt Arthur. And Arthur worships the ground she walks on. They're getting married and they're going to be happy! You'll see! You're _wrong_!"

"Oh Merlin," said Kilgharrah, softly. "When have I ever been wrong?"

"Loads of times!" Merlin said, scrabbling for an example and getting even angrier when he couldn't think of one at all. "You don't know everything! No-one does!"

"Perhaps. But I do know this. If Arthur marries Guinevere, it will mean the end of Albion. The end of everything you've fought for. Is that what you want?"

Merlin stood still, looked at the dragon for a long time and then said. "And when, exactly, did you start caring about what I want?"

Kilgharrah's eyes narrowed to the thinnest of slits, and he spread his wings. "You have been warned, Merlin! Heed my words, or all will be lost! Arthur must not marry Guinevere!"

With that the dragon launched himself into the air, leaving Merlin windswept and chilled.

Merlin began the walk back to Camelot in anguish, all thoughts of peaceful, well-earned sleep forgotten.

*

"I was just thinking," Merlin said. "Perhaps it isn't wise to rush things."

"What?" Arthur looked doubtfully at the socks Merlin had left out for him.

"Marriage. Settling down."

"Why? I thought you were all for it."

"You're still young! Perhaps you should, oh, I don't know. Sow some wild oats or something."

"What has the nature of a grain crop got to do with getting married?"

Merlin blinked at him. Arthur could be ridiculously dense sometimes.

Arthur clutched his socks to his chest and said with a heavy dose of mock-sympathy, "Are you jealous, Merlin? Because I promise you'll still see me every day. And you can still go and help Guinevere choose her dress material, I know how you love to go to the market on your little girly trips."

"I help her to carry things," Merlin protested.

"Of course you do, Merlin. Have you seen my boots anywhere?"

"No. Why would I?" said Merlin, irritably. "Try under the bed."

Arthur groped around under the bed and sure enough, there they were. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled them on.

"Look, Merlin. I don't know what's upset you so much, but I'm going to marry Guinevere, and that's that."

The thing was, he looked so happy. His eyes shone when he spoke her name; he looked more relaxed than Merlin could remember him doing for a long, long time. For all the dragon's dark forebodings, Merlin couldn't escape how right this felt. Arthur was going to marry Gwen. Of _course_ he was.

Merlin smiled. "Just making sure you're really, you know. Certain. Like a test."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "A test? Really, Merlin? I mean, seriously, when ever do I listen to you?"

"Never," said Merlin, cheerfully. "Shall I tell Gwen to expect you to call round?"

"That's all right. I think I'd rather it was a surprise. That's romantic, isn't it?"

"It could be. Or it could be a bit alarming."

"Oh. Very well. I don't want to startle her. Tell her I'll be round…. No. No, I've got a better idea. I'll do it here. After dark, so there's candles, and get me some flowers, and, oh, wait, let me show you what I've got her as a betrothal gift."

Merlin waited pensively: Arthur didn't have a good track record in the line of romantic gifts. But he was pleasantly surprised when Arthur produced a little velvet pouch. He tipped its contents into Merlin's hand.

"It's a locket," Arthur said, proudly. "It opens up, so she can keep a lock of my hair in there. Or a love letter folded up very small."

"Have you written her a love letter?" said Merlin, incredulous.

"Of course not. But I might do!"

Merlin held the locket up and the gold caught the light and shimmered. "It's beautiful," he said. "She'll love it."

*

Several weeks later Merlin was in his chambers. He worked with half an eye on the tubes and bottles brewing one of Gaius's more exotic potions on the large workbench, while he studied a particularly difficult passage in the new book of magic he'd found in the archives. It was written in a language so old even Gaius couldn't read it, but there were a lot of pictures and the spells themselves were plain enough. He just couldn't work out what any of them did.

There was a knock on the door, and it swung open to reveal Gwaine, leaning in the door frame.

"Hello Gwaine!"

"Hello. Did you forget?"

"Forget what?"

"We were going for a ride this afternoon? To Greendale?"

Merlin stared blankly at him for a moment before he remembered. "It's Thursday!"

"Last I looked."

"Oh, Gwaine, I'm sorry. I've been looking at this new book, and Gaius is really busy. I lost track of the days."

"Not a problem.' Gwaine strolled into the room and perched on a wooden stool on the other side of Merlin's bench. "Keeping the world safe from beasties and evil witches?"

Merlin grinned. It had been over a year, but the joy of being able to share his magic with his friends still hadn't worn off. "Trying to. I don't understand a word of this, though."

Gwaine squinted at the words on the page and shrugged. "Might as well be written in invisible ink for all I can tell."

"I think it's from ancient times. The writing, anyway. Before even the old religion. I don't want to mess about with it unless I understand it. Magic was so powerful back then."

"Merlin, I've seen you take apart a tower with a single word. If there's anything more powerful than that I don't think I want to know about it."

Merlin laughed, and rubbed his nose, pleased and embarrassed all at once.

"Anyway," said Gwaine. "I'm here to whisk you away from all that and go for a nice healthy ride, to a nice, healthy tavern."

"Oh." Merlin looked around. "Sorry, Gwaine, I can't. Gaius left me in charge and I don't know when he'll be back. He went to help the midwife in the lower town."

"Midwife, eh? Well, we don't want any part of that, I'm sure."

"If you want to go to Greendale on you own, go ahead."

"Nah. I don't drink alone any more. It's no fun."

"Really?"

"Believe it or not, Merlin, I quite enjoy your company."

"I have no idea why," said Merlin, happily.

"Well, for one thing you're not floating around the training field with a stupid look on your face."

"Ah. Arthur."

"Yes, Arthur. Do you think he'll get any better after the ceremony tomorrow?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. Might have to wait for the wedding itself for that."

Gwaine groaned. "I'm not sure I can take it that long."

"You're happy for him really."

"She brought him his lunch today. I mean, it's great that Arthur gives you time to do your magic stuff between waiting on him hand and foot and keeping him out of trouble, but sometimes I miss you, you know? There was never all that icky stuff with you."

"Icky?"

Gwaine grimaced. "Kissing. Fond glances."

"If I didn't know you better, Gwaine, I'd say you were jealous."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."

"Well, I know you've always had a soft spot for Arthur."

"I'm shocked you'd think such a thing," said Gwaine with a grin.

Merlin closed his book, and leaned across the bench, rolling a quill back between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you think they'll be all right?"

"Gwen and her Princess?"

"Yes. I know they love each other. But is that enough?"

"Isn't it a bit late to be worrying about all this?" Gwaine said, softly. "I think they've made up their minds, don't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they have. It's just a sort of feeling I've had lately."

"It's the people getting married that are supposed to get cold feet, Merlin, not their friend."

Which made Merlin laugh, and he reminded himself Kilgharrah's warnings weren't always right, after all.

*

The next morning, once he'd checked that the throne room was decorated and Arthur was safely out of the way inspecting the newly trained unit of palace guards, Merlin made his way to Gwen's house. She'd been offered chambers in the Castle many times, but there had always been some sort of reason for her to put off moving. Merlin half-wondered if she expected Arthur to move in with her when they were married.

He found her fussing over a posy of flowers, picking out blooms to put in her hair. She looked beautiful and very flustered.

"Will you ever knock, Merlin?" she said, without looking up.

"Probably not. How are you?"

"Nervous." She bit on her lower lip, trying desperately to get a primrose to stay put behind her ear, but her hands were shaking too much.

"Here," said Merlin, and took the flower from her. "Stay still."

"What if I say the wrong thing?" Gwen said.

"All you have to say is 'yes, My Lord, I accept your proposal.'"

"I know that's all I _have_ to say, but it doesn't seem quite right, I feel I should say something else, because he will, won't he? Arthur always knows the right thing to say."

Merlin tucked the primrose into Gwen's soft, dark hair, and gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Whatever you say, it will come from the heart. That's all that matters."

"Is it?" said Gwen, anxiously. "That's easy for you to say, Merlin. You won't be the one making a fool of yourself in front of all those people. And it's not even the wedding, Geoffrey was going over the ceremony for the handfasting with us the other day and it's terrifying! There will be all those people and so many things to remember and-"

"-and none of it matters at all. All that matters is you, and Arthur."

"But that's just it, Merlin. It's…." Gwen looked down at her hands, twisting a piece of ribbon there.

"I know," Merlin said. "You're right. You're not just becoming Arthur's wife, are you? You're going to be his Queen."

Gwen's eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, Gwen, it'll be all right. Arthur believes in you, I believe in you, all the Knights believe in you. The people will love you. Not in spite of who you are, but because of it. Come on, Gwen. Arthur needs you."

She gave her head a little shake, and pulled a small, lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve. She dabbed at her eyes, took a deep breath and looked up at Merlin with all the determination and courage he loved her for.

"You're right, Merlin. Of course you are. I'm sorry."

'Don't be sorry," Merlin said. "Come on." He held out his arm for her. "I'll escort you to the Palace, My Lady."

"Why, thank you," she said, taking his arm, and then, "Here we go, then. For Arthur! For Camelot! For….."

"For honour," Merlin helpfully supplied.

"Yes," she said. "For honour."

*

The betrothal ceremony was very beautiful. Gaius proclaimed Uther too ill to attend (Merlin was fairly certain he'd slipped the King a sleeping-draft) but Geoffrey was fortunately happy to carry on under Arthur's authority as Regent.

Everyone knew that if Uther had been in his right mind he would never have allowed this, but no-one raised so much as a hint of an objection. Gwen looked beautiful, every inch a Queen, and Arthur was glowing with happiness.

Arthur has just proclaimed that the wedding would take place in a month’s time, before the Council of Kings, where there were sounds of a kerfuffle outside.

A woman's voice echoed from the hall outside. "I demand to see the King!"

The guard slipped back inside the room and said, "She says her name is Lady Bethan of Mercia, and she wishes an audience with the King on a matter of extreme urgency."

"Very well," Arthur said. "Let her in." He kissed Gwen tenderly on the cheek and bade her wait, before strolling down the long aisle of the hall, Merlin right behind him. The guards opened the door to admit a tall, fair-haired woman dressed in a gown of green and blue, pretty but not particularly fancy. A child came with her, clinging to her hand; a small boy as fair as she with soft brown eyes.

She dipped a curtsey toward Arthur. The child looked solemnly around, and bowed deeply.

"So, Lady Bethan," said Arthur. "What is so important that you must interrupt my betrothal celebrations?"

"You are not the King," the woman said.

"The King is unwell," Arthur said steadily, although Merlin noticed a twitch in his cheek that suggested he was becoming increasingly agitated.

"Oh." For the first time, she looked uncertain. "I see."

"Are you in trouble of some kind?" Arthur asked.

"I was led to believe that the King…. The King is responsible for all Knights of Camelot, is he not? And so, if anyone should have a grievance, knowledge of a knight behaving in an unseemly way…."

"If you have any cause for complaint regarding the conduct of any knight of Camelot, you may bring it to me," said Arthur. "But be aware that to do so is to make a very serious allegation indeed. I do not take such things lightly."

Lady Bethan drew herself up to her full height, head high. "I can assure you this is no trivial matter, Your Highness. It is a matter of scandal and impropriety of the greatest order."

Merlin and Arthur both glanced at Gwaine. Gwaine shrugged. Merlin thought perhaps he even looked a little hurt.

"State your complaint," said Arthur.

Lady Bethan looked nervously around at the assembled court. "Perhaps if we could meet in private…."

"If you have anything to say about the Knights of Camelot,' Arthur said, "You can do it here, in front of the Court. Speak, My Lady."

"Very well. It is not for myself that I bring this petition, but for my sister. Three years ago, when she was scarce but a girl, she met a man with whom she shared an intimate and ill-advised dalliance. No sooner was her virtue besmirched than the man disappeared, leaving her with a reputation in tatters and a ripe belly. This boy is the product of that disastrous union."

A whisper ran around the court.

Arthur looked aghast. "Surely you do not mean to imply that a Knight of Camelot-" Arthur said.

"Indeed I do." She clasped the little boy's hand tightly but not, Merlin thought, from particular affection. "When pressed, at the end, she finally confessed that the father of her child was Lancelot. Now Sir Lancelot of Camelot, My Lord."

"Lancelot?!" Arthur gave a bark of laughter. "I'm sorry, Madam, but I find that extremely hard to believe. Lancelot?"

Everyone turned to look at Lancelot, who stood at Gwaine's side. But he was simply staring at the child, as if it were a two-headed dog. A cold feeling settled in Merlin's stomach.

Lady Bethan laughed; a dry, humourless sound. "Yes, Lancelot. Elaine was tricked by his pretty words and empty promises!"

"My Lady," Lancelot said, his voice tight with distress. "I can assure you, if I had been myself…. I can scarcely believe…."

"Where is the Lady in question?" Arthur asked. "Your sister, Elaine, why does she not come herself?"

"She is dead," Lady Bethan said. She was trembling, her eyes fixed firmly on Lancelot. "She died giving birth to your son."

"My… son," said Lancelot, who looked to be in some sort of a daze.

Arthur's expression softened. He looked at the lad properly for the first time, and, Merlin thought, with sympathy.

"It is in her name that I demand recompense," Lady Bethan continued. "I have done my best by the child, raised him healthy, schooled his manners. But I have recently received a proposal of marriage from Lord Harold of Ismere, a match which will assure my future for many years to come. He has no interest, however, in raising the bastard son of his dead sister-in-law."

"My Lord," said Lancelot, wretched. "If we could speak alone..."

"All right," said Arthur. "Merlin, see to it that there is suitable accommodation for the Lady Bethan and her ward. Then come to the Council Chamber. I'll meet you and Lancelot there in half an hour." He turned to Gwen, took and kissed her hand. "I'm sorry. I will dine with you later?"

Gwen smiled at him, but only fleetingly; her gaze was on Lancelot, her brow lined with worry.

*

"I cannot help you if you don't tell me what happened."

"My Lord, I do not deserve your help. I wish not to cause you distress, especially on this of all days, but I must ask that you accept my withdrawal from Court. I am no longer worthy to be a knight of Camelot."

Arthur leaned over the table at which Lancelot was seated and said, "Tell me what happened, Lancelot. From the start."

Merlin stood a little way behind Arthur, close to the wall. Lancelot was twisting his hands in his lap, his eyes fixed on the table.

"Please remember," Lancelot said, "It was a long time ago, shortly after our meeting at Hengist's castle. I had been wandering for days, and then one night I met a woman in a tavern."

"A whore?" said Arthur. "Is that what this was? Because if it was, really, it is perfectly understandable. If it was an honourable establishment and the women there were not under any duress….Men have needs. It is not ideal, but it is excusable."

Lancelot shook his head. "No! No, I would not do that! I… I made a grave error of judgement. I did take a woman named Elaine to my bed, and it is possible that the child is mine."

"This was before I made you my knight," said Arthur.

"It was. But the evidence of my transgression is very much in the present, My Lord. I could no longer hold my head up high."

"Everyone makes mistakes, Lancelot. All you have done for the Kingdom more than outweighs one simple transgression."

Lancelot remained slumped, head hanging low, unable to look Arthur in the eye. "It's essential that a knight of Camelot has the respect of the people to act at all times with honour and integrity. Who could look at a knight with a bastard child he abandoned and do so?"

"The child might not be yours," Merlin said, feeling desperately sorry for his friend.

"I'm surprised you know of such things, Merlin," said Arthur, with a wry grin. "I've been wondering if you still believed babies were delivered by the stork."

"You'd be amazed how much I know," said Merlin, and the two of them exchanged a smirk; everyday, personal, grounding.

"Can you look into it?" Arthur asked. "Is there anything you and Gaius could do to make certain whether the boy is Lancelot's son?"

"It's possible, in theory. I'll talk to Gaius."

"Of course. As quickly as you can, Merlin. Meanwhile, Lancelot, please don't do anything rash until we have all the facts at our disposal."

"Thank you," said Lancelot, and when Arthur extended his hand, Lancelot clasped it warmly. "You are, as ever, far greater a friend than I deserve."

*

"A test of fatherhood?" Gaius peered at Merlin over his glasses. "Yes, I believe they are possible. In the old times kings would require them as a matter of course, to ensure the integrity of their line."

"Let me guess," said Merlin. "Uther banned them because he didn't want anyone finding out Arthur was born of magic."

Gaius nodded.

"Can you do it?" said Merlin.

"I believe so. But I will need your help. The test works best enhanced with magic. It involves isolating the very essence and being of a person, from something personal; a lock of hair or a toenail clipping were the most usual."

"I had a feeling you'd say that. Here." Merlin produced three folds of parchment and put them on Gaius's desk. "I went for a lock of hair, you'll be relieved to know."

"You knew?"

"I guessed," Merlin said. "I've been reading a _lot_ lately."

"Clearly! Well done, my boy. Now, fetch me three flasks. One for Lancelot, one for the baby and one for….?"

"Lady Bethan. I thought that if she's lying, it might be because she's trying to rid herself of an indiscretion of her own. Or, if the indiscretion was her sister's maybe that'll show up, as they were closely related?"

"Precisely. My goodness, Merlin, I'll make a scientist of you yet."

"I'd rather be a warlock, thanks. Quicker results."

"For you, maybe. Some people find magic just as tricky as science. If not tricker."

"Here." Merlin put the flasks down on the bench.

"I'll need essence of marigold, eye of newt and some of that distilled elderflower, please. Now, let me see…."

Half an hour later, Gaius's workroom was heavy with the scent of elderflower, and each of the flasks held a sticky yellow concoction into which Gaius dropped the locks of hair.

"Your turn," Gaius said, giving the last of the flasks a bit of a shake before settling it back on the bench.

Merlin held out his hand, called his power and spoke.

At first, nothing happened. But just as Merlin was about to try the spell again, the contents of the flask began to bubble and change colour, and smoke rose from each one.

Two blue, one purple.

There were shapes in the smoke; twisting, impossible lines and patterns that Merlin couldn't really understand. But Gaius's expression was unmistakable.

The smoke dissipated and the bubbling stopped.

"It's true then?" Merlin said.

"I'm afraid so," said Gaius. "The Lady Bethan is the child's aunt. And Lancelot is most definitely his father. It seems reasonable, therefore, to conclude…"

Merlin slumped down onto the stool. "Lancelot is a father. _Lancelot._ I can't believe it. I always imagined that one day, when he was older and Camelot was safe, he'd be married to some beautiful woman and surrounded by little boys and girls with dark hair and big brown eyes… I never thought this would happen."

"It's not uncommon, Merlin. Young men have urges and…"

Merlin held up his hands and grimaced. He had no desire whatsoever to discuss young mens' urges with Gaius. Ever. He still remembered the lecture (with diagrams) Gaius had seen fit to give him when he'd first arrived in Camelot all those years ago. He never wanted to revisit the theme (and especially not the diagrams) again. "I know," he said. "But I always thought Lancelot, of all people, wouldn't have more… restraint, I suppose."

"You had better take this news to Arthur," Gaius said. "The Council will be pressing him for a decision. What do you think Arthur will do?"

"I'm not sure. Is it really so bad, Gaius? Just one mistake, and before he became a knight, even…?"

"You should talk to Arthur. Make him see sense."

"I will." Merlin sprang to his feet. "And let's just hope Lancelot stays around to see sense too!"

*

Merlin found Arthur in his chambers. He was sitting at the window, looking out at the courtyard. It was one of his favourite places to think.

"Arthur," Merlin said. "Are you all right?"

"Merlin! Yes, of course. Just tired, that's all. Ever since that woman turned up everyone and his dog wants to give me advice about how to deal with an errant knight. My head's swimming with it."

"Is it really so terrible?"

"The older members of the Council think so. Some are just stuffy old arses who can't remember what it's like to be young, but some of them are shrewd politicians. It's so terribly important for the people to believe in Camelot again, after all that's happened, and with the King so… ill. Bayard's looking for trouble and there are skirmishes along the Northern Borders. Everyone's nervous, and my honour is my Knights' honour. But on the other hand…."

"Yes?" said Merlin, eagerly.

"Gwaine tells me that I should, and I quote, 'grow a pair and tell the stuck-up buggers to live in the real world'."

"He has a point," said Merlin. "Even Knights are only human. We all make mistakes. I mean, when you think of Gwaine's past, and Elyan's… who knows what scandal might crawl out of the woodwork?"

"Why thank you, Merlin," Arthur said. "You're so reassuring."

Merlin grinned at him, because he could tell, right then, what Arthur as going to do.

"Gaius's experiments were certain," Merlin said. "The little boy really is Lancelot's son."

Arthur sighed deeply, and was about to speak again when the door to his chambers burst open.

"My Lord! I'm sorry, I should have … I … I must speak with you!"

"Guinevere, come in." Arthur reached out a hand and she took it, squeezed it, but returned his smile only fleetingly. Merlin stepped back.

"Is it true?" Gwen said. "That Lancelot's leaving?"

"It looks like he might have to," said Arthur.

"For something he did years ago, long before he was a knight, based on the word of a stranger? Arthur, that's ridiculous!"

"The knight's Code is clear that-"

"The Code?! By the Code he wouldn't be a knight at all! Arthur, please. I beg you to reconsider."

"Guinevere, be calm. I haven't decided anything yet. It was Lancelot himself who decided to resign his title."

"Lancelot? But… So it's true, then? It is his child?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How can you be sure?"

"Merlin and Gaius did some tests." Arthur nodded towards Merlin, and Gwen smiled at him, as if noticing him there for the first time. Her brow was furrowed and she fiddled anxiously with a ribbon at her sleeve while she thought.

"If it's a matter of honour, it must count for something that he owned up, and tried to resign," she said eventually. "Honesty is more important, surely, than an… indiscretion."

"That is true," said Arthur. "But the Court, the elder Courtiers…"

"But the people don't think that way. They love Lancelot. He's so good with the children, he's been helping to teach some of them to read and he's always down in the lower town."

"That's true," said Merlin, with a sudden surge of hope. "Who would know, anyway? It's not unusual for someone to look after their nephew or younger cousin or brother or sister."

"Yes, except I can't imagine Lancelot ever being willing to lie," said Arthur. "He'd rather give up everything in the world than that."

"Then say nothing," Gwen said. "It's not anyone's business than Lancelot's anyway. And whatever happened, I'm sure he has his reasons. It doesn't make him any less worthy to be a knight of Camelot!"

"I know," said Arthur. "But it's not as simple as that."

"Please, Arthur. I'm begging you. Make him reconsider."

Arthur looked at Guinevere for a long moment, smiling softly at her as he stroked his fingertips down her hair, her cheek. "I'll do my best, my love. I promise."

Gwen flung her arms about him, and held him tight.

*

Merlin knocked on Lancelot's door, but didn't wait for an answer before he went in. Lancelot was standing by the empty hearth, staring at the Pendragon coat of arms that hung above it.

"Hello, Merlin," he said. "I imagine you know the truth by now."

"You have a son," said Merlin. "That's a good thing, surely?"

"When I abandoned him and his poor mother, and left him to grow up fatherless?"

"Did you know she was with child?"

Lancelot shook his head, deep in shame. "I barely knew her. Just that one night."

He sank into a nearby chair and leaned on his sword, wretched. Merlin pulled up a stool and sat too, almost close enough to touch him, but his hands remained folded in his lap.

"What happened, Lancelot? This is about a lot more than a quick tumble in a tavern, isn't it?"

"Did Arthur send you?"

"No. He didn't have to."

"Gwaine was here earlier. Tried to tell me I was only human. Shouldn't be so hard on myself. Leon said he respected me for allowing Arthur to uphold the law. Elyan said the past should stay in the past, that men can change."

"But that's it," Merlin said. "You _haven't_ changed. You're as steadfast and honourable as you were the day you arrived in Camelot. You were born a knight. So what happened? I don't believe for a minute it was just a moment's indulgence."

"Would you believe I was drunk?"

"Yes, but I've seen you drunk, remember? If anything you get _more_ honourable. Remember that time you dragged Gwaine out of the feast of winter lights because Lady Eustace was trying to take advantage of him?"

"Ha! Yes. Yes, I do."

"So. What was it, Lancelot? Were you drugged? Tricked?"

Lancelot let out a long sigh. "Enchanted. I believe I was enchanted."

Merlin's eyes went wide. "Enchanted?"

"Very well," Lancelot said quietly. "I will tell you. But please, Merlin, don't breathe a word of this elsewhere. Rumour is rife in the Castle even now, and I won't besmirch another's honour, especially… I can't."

"I promise," said Merlin. "Please."

"After our meeting at Hengist's castle, I was at a loss. Gwen changed me forever, and to go back to my old life would have been a betrayal. I wandered for months, living on what I could find in the forest. Then one day I came across a village near the borders with Cenred's kingdom, which had been devastated by raids from slave-traders. I stayed there several weeks helping the villagers to rebuild their homes and livelihoods. One night I answered a knock at my door in the middle of the night to find Gwen standing there, so beautiful in the moonlight, so lost and alone and wretched. I invited her inside and she told me she had fled Camelot; that her love for Arthur had come to nothing and that Uther had banished her for some trifling thing; that she truly loved only me, and wanted to be with me wherever life took us."

A chill seeped into Merlin's bones. Tears welled in Lancelot's eyes as he continued.

"My passion got the better of me, Merlin. I threw aside every shred of common sense and decency for the sliver of a hope that she might truly love me. That she was really there. But in the morning, the cruel deception of the enchantment was revealed to me. The woman who lay in my bed was not Gwen. It was a stranger, who called herself Elaine and told me that she had lost her way; she had met a lady in the forest while out riding and suffered an enchantment herself, to be disguised as Gwen and come to me as she did. She remembered little of what had passed between us, and when I tried to explain, she ran away."

"That was her choice," said Merlin, softly.

"The next day I met Percival. It was his village. He had been away seeking revenge on those who had killed all he held dear. He begged me to stay, so I did, and I often wondered about Elaine, if she would ever return…. But I was a coward, Merlin. Every day that passed, I rejoiced that she had no need of me, the man who had despoiled her."

"You were both enchanted. It's hardly your fault, Lancelot. And you waited."

"Eventually we heard of trouble in another village, and Percival and I left to offer our aid. The fight against Cenred became our fight. The rest, you know."

"And the woman in the forest?"

"A woman with golden hair, a cloak and dress of deepest red, eyes of brown and gold. A woman with the power to cast great enchantments. I realised afterwards that I had met the woman too, earlier that day, in the village. She brought me water, and I drank it gratefully, dry as I was from the hot sun and hard labour. I was to meet her again, when I found out who she really was."

Merlin hissed in breath. "Morgause."

"So you see why I cannot stay, Merlin. I can never tell Arthur the truth. I don't want anyone to know, but especially not him. What would he think of me, if he knew I was capable of taking advantage of his future queen in that way? I couldn't bear it. The best thing is if I go quietly away. I can be of no use here."

"That's not true. Camelot needs good knights more than ever. Arthur's doing well, but he can't succeed alone. Lancelot, it's your duty to stay."

Lancelot sadly shook his head.

"Then Morgause has won. Do you suppose it was an accident, that she did this?"

"What reason does a witch need, if she simply likes to toy with poor mens' hearts?"

Merlin could see the deep hurt in Lancelot's eyes. It had been a long time since that day when Lancelot had walked away from the chance he had to be with Gwen. But the pain looked as fresh as ever. Merlin wondered what it cost him, to keep it buried every day.

Merlin nursed his own heartbreaks and he squeezed Lancelot's arm in a wave of compassion for his dear friend, who had given up every hope of happiness for the good of his King. And then he had an idea.

"Morgause didn't do anything just for fun," Merlin said. "She may have enjoyed tormenting people, but that's not the same thing. Perhaps she thought it would turn you against Arthur, if you thought Gwen had been badly treated. Or perhaps she had some reason to hurt Elaine."

"Poor Elaine," Lancelot whispered. "To die so young. And all my fault."

Merlin squeezed Lancelot's arm again, hard this time. "Stop it. You weren't to know. You have to get over this, put it in the past where it belongs. Stand up to the gossips and the ancient fools around this place and fight at Arthur's side, like you always have."

"Do you really think I can?"

"I don't think you have a choice," Merlin said, firmly. "Quite apart from anything else, Gwen won't let Arthur give up until you agree!"

"Now there is a formidable opponent," said Lancelot, with a wry grin.

The light was fading, casting long shadows across the room. It would be time for supper, soon, and Merlin had errands to run for Gaius. He got to his feet, giving Lancelot a firm pat on the shoulder. "You'll do the right thing. I know you will."

Lancelot nodded. He watched as Merlin crossed the room, until he reached the door, and then he said, "Sometimes I think I'll never stop running."

"You can," Merlin said. "It's your choice, Lancelot. It's always a choice."

Merlin wasn't surprised, later that evening, when Lancelot arrived at Arthur's chambers, and asked to speak to Arthur alone.

But he was very pleased.

*

"Take this to Lady Bethan, Merlin, and make sure her horse is ready to take her on her way by the end of the morning."

Merlin took the heavy pouch from Arthur, and the neatly folded parchment bearing the King's seal. "What about the boy?" he asked.

"Gwen has found a foster family for him. They have a son about the same age as the boy, as it happens. They will be paid for his keep, of course, and provided with rooms here in the Castle. The mother is a seamstress, I understand, and the father a woodcarver. In fact, I'd like you to take him to them this afternoon."

"What about Lancelot? Doesn't he want to say goodbye?"

"He thinks it would be too unsettling."

"Oh. For him, or the boy?"

"That's a good question," said Arthur. "But it's not my concern. I'd like both the boy and my Knights to be settled, if at all possible, and then we can get on with the business at hand."

"Your wedding?"

"I was thinking more of building the defences of Camelot, but yes, I suppose you're right. There should be betrothal celebrations, I think. A festival, with tournaments and dancing, and a lot of mead."

"That would be a handy distraction," Merlin noted, casually. "Give people something new to talk about."

"I have no idea what you mean, Merlin," said Arthur, with a grin.

*

Merlin walked through the familiar corridors of the Castle with a small, warm hand in his, pointing out features of note: a gargoyle here, a view of the battlements, a safe hiding spot useful for small boys who needed time alone. The little boy listened earnestly, trotting along to keep up with Merlin's long stride.

"I think you'll have a great time living here," Merlin said.

"How long have you been here?" said the boy.

"Oh, a long time. Longer than you've been alive, even."

"Do you have a mother and a father?"

"My mother lives in a village quite a long way away. My father died."

"Oh." He thought for a moment and then said, "My mother died. When I was only new."

Merlin squeezed the little hand in his, and the boy squeezed back.

"Here we are," said Merlin. "This is going to be your new home."

They'd reached a small set of chambers on the ground floor of the Castle, near the servants' quarters. But the rooms were comfortable and well-furnished. A woman was standing by the large oak table, unpacking bundles of cloth.

Merlin knocked on the open door. "Hello?"

The woman looked up with a beaming smile. "Hello! You must be Merlin!"

They shook hands, and she said, "I'm Molly. Come in."

They followed her into the room. It smelt of lavender and sage, and freshly-baked bread from the kitchen.

"This is my son," Molly said, and Merlin noticed a boy sitting at the other side of the table. He'd been hidden by a pile of cloth he seemed intent on burrowing his head into, but looked up when his mother mentioned him, curious and smiling.

"Come on," said Molly, and he set about climbing down from his seat. "This is the boy I told you about, who's going to be living with us for a while. Come and shake hands."

The boy ran over to them and stuck his hand out, grinning broadly. "Hello," he said. "My name's Gareth, what's yours?"

The little boy at Merlin's side took Gareth's hand and shook it firmly. "Pleased to meet you," he said. "I'm Galahad."


	3. Part II

"So." Gwaine sloshed a pair of tankards down on the table and plonked himself on the stool next to Merlin's. "How's the Princess?"

"Getting nervous," said Merlin. "Although he won't admit it."

"Good nervous or might run at the last minute nervous?"

"Oh, good nervous. I caught him sleeping with a lock of her hair under his pillow the other night. How was the quest?"

"Bit of a non-starter." Gwaine took a long gulp from his tankard. "The castle had been cleaned out long ago, not a trace of Cenred's men in sight. No treasure, either. Just a big stone shell of a place."

"Where are they all going? That's the fifth stronghold in a row that's been deserted."

"Maybe they're going to regroup somewhere. It's been chaos ever since Cenred died, and chaos takes its toll on a land."

Merlin nodded, and sipped at his ale.

"Lancelot was disappointed," Gwaine said. "He could do with a good battle. Clear his head."

Merlin glanced across the room to the table where Lancelot, Leon, Percival and Elyan sat, sharing a jug of wine. He wondered if they knew, if it was too obvious that sometimes he and Gwaine met like this. If they guessed what happened when the ale was gone and the tavern closed, and the others had stumbled back to Camelot.

Sometimes. Only sometimes. When Merlin was lonely feeling a little wistful about Arthur and the past, and Gwaine was between wenches and for a little while they wanted more than friendship at the end of the night.

While Merlin looked across the room and remembered with a rush of warmth how good Gwaine tasted, something happened. Something ordinary, innocent, a tiny thing.

But still, it made Merlin slow time.

He watched, second by second, as a servant put a piece of parchment in Lancelot's hand, and received a shiny penny in return.

An innocent, tiny thing. Except.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, time running again although his mind moved like treacle. "Do you recognise that girl? The one heading towards the door?"

Gwaine squinted in the girl's direction. "She's a servant, isn't she? Colleen, I think her name is."

Merlin's eyes closed; he swallowed and it felt like his throat was full of marbles.

"Oh, I know," said Gwaine. "She's Gwen's new maidservant. Lovely girl."

"Yes," said Merlin.

It wasn't the note. It wasn't the girl who delivered the note.

It was the look on Lancelot's face as he read it that Merlin would never forget.

*

Gwaine's mouth was warm on Merlin's neck, his fingers light as they traced Merlin's collarbone. Merlin let his head tip back and tried to blank his mind to everything but the pleasure of Gwaine's touch.

"You've been quiet tonight," Gwaine said.

"That could change," said Merlin, skin goosepimpling as Gwaine shoved his shirt up. He let Gwaine lower him onto the hard tavern bed, all rough sheets and scratchy blanket. He didn't care. Gwaine's body was smooth and strong, a comforting weight on top of him. "C'mere," Merlin said, grabbing Gwaine's arms and pulling him up, up, until Gwaine knelt astride Merlin's chest, pushing his cock down for Merlin to lick and kiss and suck. It felt so good, Gwaine's cock filling his mouth. The slick, hard slide of it. Perfect.

"Fuck, Merlin," Gwaine said, his voice choked. He rolled his hips, slowly, making sure Merlin was okay to take it. Merlin sucked harder, tilted his head a little further back so the thrust was easy, and let Gwaine fuck his mouth. Gwaine's movements were graceful, gentle, never out of control. Sex with Gwaine was a thing of beauty, a practised art. A luxury, like a hot bath or a bowl of strawberries. It wasn't really to do with love, not the kind of love that scaled walls or saved unicorns or servants or princes. But it was a wonderful thing, nonetheless.

Merlin trailed his fingers down Gwaine's back, paused for a few moments at the base of his spine and then ventured lower. Gwaine lost his rhythm just for a moment as Merlin's fingertips flirted with his arse, but quickly settled back, letting Merlin explore however he liked.

Merlin's lips and chin were wet with spit; his jaw ached pleasantly and his tongue fluttered under Gwaine's cock. Gwaine stroked his thumb across Merlin's cheekbone, smiling down at him; if he could have, Merlin would have smiled right back. Instead he pushed a finger up Gwaine's arse, and wiggled it.

"So that's how it is," said Gwaine. A blush was spreading across his cheeks, his throat, his chest. He was close.

Merlin winked at him, and probed deeper. Gwaine paused and Merlin sucked hard, swirling his tongue around, tasting slick and sweet and warm skin until Gwaine pulled back.

Merlin licked his lips.

"God, Merlin," Gwaine said. "You don't give a man a chance, do you?"

"A chance for what?" Merlin's voice was thick, his lips a little numb.

"Restraint." Gwaine wrapped his fingers around his cock and gave it a stroke. "Elegance."

"Over-rated." Merlin cupped Gwaine's balls; Gwaine threw his head back and hissed.

The sight of Gwaine, his long, lean body stretched back, revealing the lines and ridges of his well-worked muscles, nearly had Merlin undone. He gave Gwaine's arse a slap, bringing him in closer again, licking at Gwaine's balls and belly and the root of his cock, mouthing and kissing. When Gwaine fed his cock back into Merlin's mouth he was more than ready to take it again, right down in one long, hungry slide.

"Can't last," Gwaine gasped. "Not like this. Fuck. _Fuck_."

Merlin closed his eyes, lost in the drag of warm, male skin over his tongue, his lips, pushing into his throat. His hands were soft on Gwaine's thighs, encouraging, telling him _yes_.

Gwaine came with a yell, flooding Merlin's mouth with warm, sticky fluid that tasted stupidly good. Merlin drank it down, enjoying the hitch of Gwaine's breath as he swallowed.

When he was done, Gwaine rolled onto his back, pulling Merlin down with him. "On me?" he said, because he knew Merlin liked to come over his belly and chest, and when Merlin made a sort of gurgling noise of approval, Gwaine wrapped his hand around Merlin's cock and started to stroke. It didn't take long; Merlin was more than ready and it felt so good, the taste of Gwaine on his tongue and the keen, talented hand on his cock; the tingle started at his spine and his thighs and shot to his balls. Everything went tight and hot and then, with a fizz of magic and a hiss of pleasure, Merlin came.

*

It was too late to go back to Camelot, and anyway, it was comfortable, warm against Gwaine's side, one leg flung over his, Gwaine idly playing with Merlin's hair, brushing it up at odd angles so it was bound to stick out ludicrously in the morning.

Merlin drifted, listening to the reassuring sounds of Camelot deep in the night: owls, the wind swirling down the main street, the quiet footfall of guards on patrol as they passed the inn.

And then there were hoofbeats.

Gwaine yawned, already on the way to sleep. He barely stirred when Merlin shifted away from him and crossed to the window.

It was dark, the night dusted with light rain, and he could see no more than a figure. But the figure was leading a white horse, skittish and beautiful, that Merlin knew very well indeed. It had been Morgana's, and like most things she had left behind, Arthur had given it away.

"Gwaine," he said, softly.

"Mmm? Come back t'bed, Merlin. 'S cold."

"I think something dreadful is going to happen."

"It is. I'm going to catch my death because you were too selfish to stay put."

"No, seriously, I mean, I think…"

But Merlin couldn't bring himself to say it. Not yet. It was too terrible, too unbearable, and there was still the shining hope that he was wrong.

"What is it, Merlin?"

Merlin shook his head, turned around and gave Gwaine a bright smile. "Nothing. Sorry."

"Want me to go check?"

"No, no point. Just a trick of the light."

"Come back to bed then," said Gwaine. "Did I mention that it's cold?"

Merlin lay back down next to Gwaine, pulled the blanket over them both, and tried not to think.

It was almost dawn before he slept.

*

Merlin found Gwen the next day in the chambers that used to be Morgana's, but since her betrothal to Arthur had become hers. She sat at the table with a ledger and a quill, scratching away at the paper. She looked up when Merlin knocked on the open door, and smiled.

"There's so much to do," she said. "I had no idea weddings could be so complicated."

"Really? I thought you just had to get Arthur to buy you a really expensive dress and turn up in the Great Hall."

"I wish it were so, Merlin. Dresses I can handle. It's the guests and the banquet and the entertainments and I need to organise flowers…."

Her forehead was screwed up in a frown and her fingers gripped the quill so hard Merlin thought it might break.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need any errands running?"

Gwen shook her head. "You've got enough to do, Merlin. But thank you. You're a good friend."

"It'll be all right," said Merlin with a little smile. "It'll be worth it, won't it? To marry Arthur?"

"Ask me again in two weeks!" She laughed and Merlin relaxed a little. "Did you mean it, when you offered to help?"

"Anything. Just name it."

"Arthur's insisted on going on some big hunting expedition. He's determined to bring back a boar for the feast."

"Hmm. He mentioned that."

"Please look after him, Merlin? I know he thinks he's invincible but really, he's not, and if he gets hurt over a stupid, silly thing like getting stupid roast boar at an idiotic feast-"

"Hey!" Merlin put an arm around Gwen's shoulders. "It's all right. Do you have any idea how many boars I've saved Arthur from?"

She looked up at him and shook her head; her eyes glistened with tears.

"Seven," said Merlin. "Six of them without him even noticing it was me. So. I can handle that just fine. Come on, keeping Arthur out of trouble is what I'm here for. You know that."

She got to her feet and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Merlin. Thank you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I know. I'm a total hero. Can't help it."

She pulled back from the hug as quickly as she'd jumped into it, but she was smiling. "You must think I'm a complete idiot."

"Of course not. It's pretty big, all this. I mean…" Merlin paused, running his finger over the back of Gwen's chair. "It would be perfectly understandable if it was all too much. If you wanted to change your mind, for example."

"Change my mind?"

"You're not married yet. If it's not right, if you don't want this…"

"Oh, but I do! I know it's hard but this is important, it's what we've waited for all these years. Arthur's a good man, he loves me. This is all just-" She waved an arm at her ledger full of lists, "-details."

"Of course," said Merlin. "Sorry. I was just checking it's what you want."

"I understand. Now, I suppose…"

"Details won't take care of themselves. Right!"

"Right."

He searched her face but she was simply smiling at him, her usual, lovely self. Just Gwen.

He gave her a little wave, and left her alone. But still, he was bothered all the way back to his chambers, where Gaius waited with the inevitable list of chores. There was one thing still eating away at him, and however hard he tried he couldn't put it out of his mind.

*

Merlin watched Kilgharrah land in the clearing. The dragon managed its size with such grace and agility, touching down softly on the damp grass, folding its wings neatly in place. He dipped his great head down to greet Merlin, golden eyes blinking once, twice, in acknowledgement.

"If I tell you something," Merlin said, "will you promise not to gloat?"

"Merlin. I take no pleasure in your discomfort."

"I don't think Gwen's in love with Arthur."

Kilgharrah waited, unusually still.

"I think perhaps she's marrying him out of duty. But that need not be a bad thing, I mean, she likes him a lot and she's proud of him, and she loves him as her king, and she wants him to succeed."

"I'm sure you're right about that, Merlin," said Kilgharrah, softly.

There was a long pause, and then Merlin said, staring at the grass, "It's not enough, is it?"

"I don't think so."

There was great compassion in the dragon's voice, and a deep sadness that took Merlin by surprise. He moved closer, and when Kilgharrah dipped his head, Merlin touched his snout, first with his hand and then resting his forehead against the dragon's smooth, cool scales. "I don't know what to do," he whispered.

"The same as always, young warlock. You must save Arthur."

Merlin didn't have it in him to ask him how. He knew the dragon wouldn't answer, anyway.

*

The next day Merlin rose early, and for once sent a servant with Arthur's breakfast, left a note for Gaius to excuse himself for the day, and went for a long walk in the forest. Sometimes it calmed him, the soft hush of growing things, but not today. He kept turning things over and over in his mind. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Gwen could have any number of reasons for sending Lancelot a message; even for meeting with him at the tavern. Her feelings for Arthur might be different from Arthur's for her, but the two of them were close; they still lit up in each others' company, wanted the same things. In time, wasn't that what mattered? How many married couples stayed in love anyway? Did love ever last?

But then Merlin remembered the way Arthur had looked at him the very first day they'd met; remembered drinking poison for him; remembered the way Arthur had looked the first time he'd taken Merlin to his bed.

He got back from the forest a little after noon. The Knights were still on the training ground, going through training patterns Merlin had watched so many times but somehow never got bored of. He'd learned to appreciate the skill and mastery of every weapon, the grace of every move.

Lancelot was sitting at the side of the training ground, fiddling with a piece of armour that had got bent out of shape. Merlin went over to join him.

"Here," he said, kneeling down at Lancelot's side. "Let me."

Lancelot smiled at him, and willingly handed over the clunky mass of metal. "The coulter has got dented, and now it won't move."

"I see." Merlin examined the joins carefully. "I think it's this join here. Pass me that hammer."

It wasn't quite the right size; Merlin had grown accustomed to the little set of tools he used on Arthur's armour and this hammer felt too big, unbalanced in his hand. But it did the job well enough. He started to tap the dented plate back into shape.

"I went to see Galahad the other day," Merlin said. "He's settled in well."

"That's good," said Lancelot. "He's with a good family."

"For now. Of course, when you get married you'll be able to have him with you."

"Oh, I don't think that's going to happen."

"Why?"

"I haven't had much luck when it comes to love, Merlin. I think it would be better for everyone if I forgot all about it and concentrated on what I do best."

"Do you really think that?"

"Absolutely. I've had my chances, Merlin, and it brought nothing but misery. It is best that Galahad grows up in a proper home. I cannot give him that."

Merlin too a deep breath, the hope rising in him even as he felt deeply sorry for Lancelot, and said, "If things were different, and you and Gwen had-"

Lancelot's fist tightened on his sword hilt. "No. Don't, Merlin. It can never be. I will never come between them."

"Even if-"

"It's settled now. Arthur is my king, one of my dearest friends. Merlin, please, I beg you. I can speak no more of this."

"Of course. Here." Merlin offered Lancelot's armour back to him. "All mended. You might want to get that properly looked at by the armourer, though."

"Thank you, Merlin. You're a marvel. I'm lucky you passed by."

"Yeah, said Merlin, with a smile. "Me too."

*

"Are you all right, Merlin?"

Merlin closed the door on the world, more than grateful to be at home, in the sanctum of his chambers after a long day. Gaius was standing over a cooking pot from which emanated the delicious smell of stew; the room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight and a fire burned brightly in the hearth.

"I am now," Merlin said.

"Dinner's nearly ready."

"Great. I'll be back in a minute."

Merlin went to his room, dropped his jacket on the bed and paused to splash water on his face before returning to the main room. Gaius was ladling stew into big bowls; Merlin fetched bread and spoons. They ate at the rickety table in the middle of the room as usual, one of the most comforting, pleasant parts of Merlin's day.

"You look tired, my boy," Gaius said, as Merlin started on his second helping of stew.

"I'm okay," said Merlin, and then, "Is love always complicated, do you think?"

"That depends." Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Are you in love, Merlin?"

"Me? No! God, no. Honestly, Gaius."

Gaius smiled benignly; their eyes met and for a moment it was clear that Gaius knew a great many things, and Merlin found it profoundly comforting. "I was thinking more in general. Is it possible to avoid the whole thing, do you think?"

"Some people remain unattached for a lifetime. Others marry their childhood sweethearts and share their whole lives. It's as much about circumstance as intentions."

"And the tragedy happens when it's the wrong person at the wrong time, I suppose."

"Yes. But any love story has its twists and turns, its bumps along the way. It's not easy."

"No." Merlin took another hunk of bread and broke it up, dropping pieces into his stew as he thought. "Gaius?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"If a person knew something, that might affect the way another person felt about someone, do you think they should they tell that person?"

"You mean, in a romantic situation?"

"Well… yes."

"It very much depends, Merlin. Sometimes things aren't what they seem, especially where love is concerned. I would say you should be very sure, before raising doubts in anyones' minds."

Merlin nodded.

"Sometimes the best thing to do is to stand back and wait, to see what transpires. If it comes to nothing, you can breathe a sigh of relief and forget all about it. If things become difficult, then you are in a good position to help your friend. Better that than stir up a hornets nest and have them all turn and sting you."

Merlin wondered if Gaius was speaking from experience, but if he was there was nothing in his face to give it away. "Thanks."

Gaius patted his hand. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing, my boy. Now, how about making an old man a nice cup of tea?"

*

Merlin went to bed not long after supper, exhausted from the emotion of the day and determined to get up in the morning and concentrate on his chores and his studies and think as little as possible. He drifted quickly to sleep.

When he woke it was still dark, except for a chink of light from the door, which was ajar; all was quiet except for the sound of another person breathing. Merlin sat bolt upright and pulled his magic together, but the intruder spoke, setting him instantly at ease.

"Merlin, shh. It's Elyan."

"Elyan?" Merlin's eyes were adjusting to the dark and he made out the outline of his friend, Gwen's brother. He was dressed in outdoor clothes, no armour, a hood framing his face.

"I'm sorry to wake you. I need your help. Gwen's missing."

"What? Did you try Morgana's chambers? I mean, _her_ chambers?"

"Yes, of course. And her house. I went there earlier this evening to show her the ring I'd made for her, it's to be a gift for Arthur at their wedding. But there was no sign of her. I thought she was busy with wedding plans, but she still hasn't returned. I'm worried, Merlin, this is so unlike her."

Merlin's heart was racing; he sprang out of bed, lit a couple of candles and starting throwing on clothes.

"I wondered if she might be with Arthur," Elyan said.

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, they are to be married soon, and I wouldn't blame either of them…."

"Royal weddings are different, apparently. Arthur was very clear on that point."

"Oh! You mean they've never….?"

"Not that it's any of my business," Merlin said. "But no, they haven't. Are you sure she didn't say where she was going to be? Was she expecting you?"

"No, it was a surprise."

"Right. Where else have you looked?"

"Everywhere I can think of in the castle; the sewing rooms, the kitchens, the laundry room, everywhere. It's not like Gwen. What if she's been kidnapped?"

"We need to stay calm, Elyan. Gwen's one of the strongest people I know. She'll be all right."

"Shouldn't we tell Arthur?"

"No! No, I mean, not yet. Let's make absolutely certain first, okay? We don't want to panic him. It might be nothing." Merlin pulled on his boots. "Have you checked the archives? She was talking about going to see Geoffrey about wedding etiquette."

"No, but… it's the middle of the night, Merlin!"

"Oh, believe me, he can go on forever!"

Elyan looked dubious.

"All right. The guards, then. One of them might have seen something. You take the palace guards, I'll go and find the patrols in the lower town. Meet you back at the main steps in half an hour, okay?"

"Yes. Good idea," said Elyan, and raced off, visibly relieved at having a plan of action.

Merlin headed straight for the Rising Sun. His insides were twisted with a dread that refused to go away, and all he could do is hope he was wrong.

There was a white horse tethered outside the Inn.

A brief enquiry of the innkeeper, and Merlin was on his way up the stairs, two at a time.

He paused outside the door, staring at the number five burned into the wood, tracing the number's shape, forcing himself to breathe.

He knocked.

There was no reply. For a moment, Merlin's spirits soared, but his hope was short-lived. He heard a voice. A man's voice, low and soothing.

 _Lancelot_.

He could walk away. It wasn't too late. He could walk away and never know and it would all be all right. He could walk away.

Merlin stepped back and reached out his hand.

 _~Tospriege!~_

The door sprang open, and everything in Merlin's world shifted. He knew, in that blinding instant, that nothing would ever be the same, that in that single act he'd lost more than he had by poisoning Morgana, by freeing Kilgharrah, any of it. This was the biggest sacrifice of all.

Lancelot stood in front of him, sword in hand, naked.

And on the bed was Guinevere.

*

There was a long silence, into which Merlin groaned, "No. Lancelot, _no_."

"Merlin," said Lancelot, a choked, strangled noise. He lowered his sword. Gwen was frantically pulling the sheets around her, covering herself. "Merlin, please, it's not…." He sank back on the bed, murmuring, "Oh God, what have we done?"

"I don't understand," said Merlin. "Why now? Why wait all this time, until _now_?"

"I had no idea," said Gwen. "Until Lady Bethan came and Lancelot was going to go away, I thought my feelings didn't matter. I thought I could cope. I was shocked that he had a son but when he told me…"

"You told her?" said Merlin.

Lancelot couldn't quite meet his gaze; he stared at the floor as he said, "I could not lie to her, Merlin, and she asked, I would not have her think my love was so fickle as to…"

Merlin's fingers twitched with magic; he took a breath to calm the anger, tamp down his power. "What about Arthur?"

"That's the tragedy of it," Lancelot said. "We both love Arthur. We believe in what he represents. This was never meant to happen."

"Too right it was never meant to happen!" Merlin yelled, and then, at Gwen, "You're supposed to be _marrying_ Arthur, remember! What are you going to tell him? That you accidentally tripped and fell into bed with his best knight?"

"Merlin, don't-"

"No! You've ruined _everything_! Everything we worked for, everything we believe in, all we've fought for…"

Lancelot started to gather up his clothes and dress. "I'll talk to him. I'll throw myself on my sword, anything. He'll see it's my fault and he'll forgive Gwen, in time, if I can just…."

"No," said Merlin, fury settled ice-cold now. "I'll be the one to tell him. It's the only way I can be certain he'll get the truth."

When Merlin left the room he locked the door. He locked the window. He made the chamber a prison with magic the key and he didn't once look back.

*

Outside the inn, Merlin hesitated.

It had seemed so simple, on the wave of shock and betrayal, to rush to tell Arthur what had happened. But another possibility bloomed as Merlin calmed down a little; instead of championing the truth, he could join the lie. He could convince Lancelot to disappear, maybe on some quest for redemption after the dishonour he'd brought to Elaine. The wedding could go ahead; Gwen could put her feelings for Lancelot to one side, and after a while, things would get back to normal.

The more Merlin thought about this, the better the idea seemed.

He began to walk back to the Castle, putting one foot in front of the other, his scheme growing as he walked. He could use an enchantment to keep Lancelot from ever returning to Camelot again. It wasn't as if Gwen didn't love Arthur; she'd agreed to marry him quickly enough when she thought Lancelot didn't care for her any more. Was their one transgression really enough to put a stop to things? What if-

"What has been done cannot so easily be undone, Emrys."

Merlin stopped in his tracks and found himself face-to-face with a familiar-looking man. He was dressed in tattered robes, out of place for Camelot. He came from a long way away, or perhaps a long time ago, and Merlin was by no means certain he meant him well.

"Taliesyn," he said, coldly.

"You have quite a dilemma facing you," Taliesyn said. "Do not treat it lightly, Emrys. It is quite probably the most important decision of your life."

"If this is somehow caught up in destiny, then I cannot change it," Merlin said. "I learned that lesson the last time we met."

"On the contrary. You shaped that memory, just as you can shape this."

"No good came of it. I couldn't stop Morgana."

"Yes, you could have. You chose not to. You saw the despair that would result from that path and you twisted fate to another route. You saw what evil grief can do, and you avoided it."

"Are you here to tell me what to do?"

"I cannot. It is forbidden. But I can tell you this, Emrys: this betrayal was foreseen, just as the treachery of the witch. There is a storm coming the likes of which Camelot has never seen - the battle for Albion itself - and if Arthur is not ready, all you have worked for will be lost."

"Arthur's ready. He's already king, in all but name."

"To rule wisely a King's attention must be always on his Kingdom. Those surrounding him must follow absolutely, in accord. Distraction, for a King, means death."

"He's going to be completely devastated if he finds out what happened tonight, never mind distracted."

"More devastated than if he remains with a wife who loves another? We do not have to know the name of our hurts to have them hurt us."

"Great. I have one question for you, though. Why me? Why didn't you go tell Lancelot that before he met with her tonight? Why didn't you tell Gwen?"

"They already know it. But they are simple, human creatures, at the mercy of their most base desires. You are of the old religion, Emrys. You alone can put Albion together, or tear her apart before Arthur's reign has even begun. Choose wisely."

"But-"

Merlin's breath misted in the air, his voice unheard.

Taliesyn had disappeared.

*

The sun streamed into Arthur's chambers. Arthur was awake, dressed for the hunt. Merlin had spent many hours walking; once he'd told Elyan that Gwen was safe and staying with a friend, he'd taken to the grounds and walked, and walked and walked, desperate to find some solution that would save the people he loved from pain. Dawn came and no solution had presented itself; Merlin met Gwaine on the training ground, where he was putting in some early practise with the mace.

He'd sat and watched Gwaine for a while, until he was sure that Arthur would be up. He would have waited longer but he felt the magic holding fast the door and window of room five at the Rising Sun release; the spell had marked its time and faded.

With a heavy heart, Merlin climbed the stairs to Arthur's rooms, and went inside. Arthur was looking out of the window, which helped; it would be easier to start this speaking to Arthur's back.

"Arthur," he said. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it this time, Merlin? Are my new boots still not ready? Because really, it's been too long and-"

Arthur turned, saw Merlin's face, and stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"It's…"

Merlin couldn't speak. He could see the worry in Arthur's eyes, the fear, the sign of fevered imaginings and doubts. "Is it Gwen? Is she all right? Merlin, speak to me!"

"She's fine. Alive. Well. I think. But she, I saw, I mean I found…"

There was a patter of footsteps from the corridor behind them, and Gwen ran into the room. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, wild and dark, and she was out of breath. Merlin braced himself; he had no idea how she'd react to being locked in the inn all night. But she paid him no attention; her gaze was fixed on Arthur.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," she said. "I don't know what Merlin's told you-"

"Nothing," said Arthur. "Frustratingly. Are you all right? You look upset."

He reached out for her, and she squeezed his hands, briefly, in her own, then let them drop. "I can't marry you, Arthur. I've done a dreadful, dreadful thing."

"Don't be silly," Arthur said, his eyes flicking from Gwen to Merlin, uncertain. "I'm sure it can't be that bad."

"It's the most terrible thing I can imagine," Gwen said. "I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

"What?" said Arthur. "Tell me. Please."

There was a pause so long that Merlin could barely stand it, and then Gwen said, quiet and wretched, "Lancelot."

Arthur went very still. He stared at Gwen, swallowed, stared at the floor. "Lancelot."

"I have no excuse, my Lord, none. I would that I had never laid eyes on him again, but-"

"You had intercourse with him?"

The word 'intercourse' hung heavy in the air, somehow more hateful than any coarser word that Arthur could have used.

Gwen said in a small, trembling voice, "Yes."

"And do you love him?"

Again, with a sob, "Yes, my Lord."

Another too-long silence, during which Arthur turned and strode to the window.

"Arthur, I-"

"Silence!"

Merlin stepped forward. "Arthur, this is a shock but please-"

"Leave me."

Merlin tried again, "Arthur."

Arthur raised his voice to a shout that echoed off the thick stone walls. "Leave! Both of you! Now!"

Merlin grabbed Gwen's arm and hurried her outside.

She burst into tears as soon as the door was closed, and Merlin hesitated for no more than a second before he wrapped his arms around her, and held her close.

*

Guinevere sat on the steps in Gaius's workroom, twisting her handkerchief around her fingers. Merlin came to sit next to her, handing her a cup.

"Gaius's best tonic tea," Merlin said. "It'll make you feel better."

"I don't deserve to feel better," said Gwen. "Oh, Merlin, what have I done?"

"I think that, perhaps, just for once, you followed your heart?"

"I was selfish. Selfish and _stupid_."

"Did you really not realise before that Lancelot still had feelings for you?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Well, maybe a little, but I put it out of my mind. I do care for Arthur, I truly do." Tears spilled down her cheeks, unheeded. "The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him."

"So what were you going to do? Lie to him? For your whole married life?"

"I don't know, Merlin. I didn't think. It was such a shock, all of it. When things began between me and Arthur I never expected to see Lancelot again. Then, when he came back… I didn't really think Arthur would ever marry me, not _me_. Lancelot acted differently, he paid me no attention, and it was only when he was going to leave Camelot that I realised how much I still cared for him. I was shocked that he'd fathered a child, but last night, when he told me the truth…"

"About Morgause?" said Merlin, sharply.

"Yes. It all came back in a rush, everything I used to feel for him. I wished I had been exiled from Camelot, wished Arthur had never thought of me in that way. Then one thing led to another and…"

"Who do you want?"

"What?"

"Lancelot or Arthur? If you had to choose?"

Gwen shook her head. "I don't deserve either of them."

Merlin bit on his lower lip, conflicted. Part of him agreed with her. He was furious with Gwen and Lancelot for hurting Arthur so badly, for shattering the dream, for making the dragon right. But Gwen was still his friend, had always been his friend, even when he'd asked her to do the impossible for him. Lancelot too. Merlin couldn't find it in him to turn his back on either of them. He never would.

"Don't worry," he said. "Arthur will calm down in a while. It'll be all right."

Gwen looked at Merlin pleadingly, as if he had it in his power to make it so.

There was a knock at the door, and a yell from the corridor beyond. "Merlin! Prince Arthur is asking for you!"

"There," Merlin gave Gwen's hand a little squeeze. "He's calmed down already. I'll talk to him. We'll find a way through this. Okay?"

She nodded at him, with a trace of a hopeless smile.

*

Merlin bounded up the stairs two at a time. Arthur's door was ajar; he pushed it open and stepped inside, a little out of breath.

Arthur was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, twisting his mother's ring round and round his finger. The room was a mess. The breakfast things had been swept from the table and there was a dagger stuck in the back of the door.

"You sent for me?' said Merlin, cautiously.

"Can you stop it?" said Arthur, without looking up.

"Stop what?"

"This. Them. This _feeling_ , in my chest, like someone stuck a knife in me."

"Oh, Arthur," whispered Merlin.

"Can you?"

"I wouldn't know where to start. I know this is hard, but you can't change the world to stop feeling a certain way. Even if I could sweep Gwen and Lancelot off the face of the earth, you'd still have the feelings."

"Then leave them where they are and just cut out…" Arthur clawed at his chest; his face screwed up tight and tears fell, huge, snotty tears. "The love, Merlin. Just cut out this stupid, wretched _love_."

"I'm so sorry."

"I don't give a fuck how _sorry_ you are. Just make it stop!"

There was anger mixed up with the despair in Arthur's eyes, and Merlin was reminded for one clear, shocking moment, of Uther. He shivered, suddenly cold despite the fire burning in the hearth. "I can't."

"Then what use is your magic? Get out!"

"It will get better, honestly. I know it hurts now, but-"

"What do you know about it? You have no idea how I feel! You've never had this, never felt this! How could you possibly know?"

Merlin flinched. He thought of a lake and the love he'd buried in it; he thought of a long trip to the Isle of the Blessed to give his life for Arthur's. He swallowed down his own rage and grief and said, voice thick and smothered with it, "I know."

Arthur made a dismissive, spitting sort of noise, and got up, pacing back to the window. "Can you make them hate each other?"

"I can't change peoples' hearts, Arthur."

"So you can't fix this at all."

"Not using magic. But I'll always be your friend, Arthur. If you want to talk or anything…"

"I don't want to _talk_ , Merlin. I don't want to share my feelings or keep calm or do the right thing. I want to find my enemies and obliterate them. Wipe them off the face of the earth so they can never, ever do this to me again. If you can't help me with that, get the fuck out, now. I won't waste my breath on you any more."

"You don't mean that."

Arthur spun around, eyes blazing fury, one fist clenched at his side, where his sword would be. "Don't you dare tell me what I mean, sorcerer."

Merlin's lips formed the word 'warlock' without him making a sound, and he braced himself for a blow.

There was a knock on the door instead. They both looked at it as the wood creaked open and Gwaine peered into the room. "Heard voices," he said. "Everything okay?"

"Take him away, Gwaine," Arthur said. "He's driving me mad and I can't deal with him right now."

Gwaine shot an astonished glance at Merlin; Merlin just shrugged.

"I'll go," Merlin said. "But don't do anything stupid. In fact, don't do anything at all. I'll come back later, shall I?"

"I'd really rather you didn't," Arthur said, and turned his back.

"Arthur-"

"I said, go." Arthur's voice was full of anger; Merlin darted towards him but Gwaine grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Leave him, Merlin. There's nothing to be done here."

"He's not thinking clearly! I have to talk to him!" Merlin strained against Gwaine's grasp, but he was held firm.

"Give him some space. Let him calm down a bit, get used to things. We need to think this through just as much as he does; if you go after him now he might just fling you in the dungeon and you can't very well help him from there, now, can you?"

"Arthur wouldn't do that," said Merlin, but he stopped struggling, defeated. "I don't know what to do. All these year's I've looked after him, but this-"

"It's hard to protect a man from himself," said Gwaine. "Come on. What you need is a stiff drink, and I happen to have just the thing back in my chambers."

Merlin stumbled along the corridors to Gwaine's quarters, hardly aware of anything except the harsh ache in his chest and the knot of worry in his stomach. Gwaine murmured a vague apology for the state of his quarters; as usual they were in chaos. Gwaine picked a few shirts off the chair nearest the window and tossed them in a corner, then indicated for Merlin to sit down. Merlin complied, shock and despair turned to numbness. He wondered if, perhaps, if he simply never had another coherent thought again in his life, everything would be all right.

"Here." Gwaine put a goblet full of rich, golden liquor into Merlin's hand. "Drink this. It'll take the edge off."

"I don't usually drink during the day," said Merlin.

"Well, today doesn't strike me as a usual kind of day." Gwaine drained a generous portion of his own cup in one thirsty gulp.

Merlin gave it barely a second's thought. If it was incoherence he wanted, this was surely the best way to go. He drank steadily; it was luscious; thick and fragrant, sweet with honey. His goblet was empty before he knew it, and Gwaine generously refilled it straight away. A warm glow spread through Merlin's body, and he let himself relax.

"How were you there?" Merlin wondered out loud.

"I ran into Lancelot in the armoury. He told me what happened."

"With him and Gwen? At the inn?"

Gwaine nodded. "He said you frightened the life out of them both and locked them up for the night."

"It was a shock."

"He was talking about falling on his sword, or running off to live as a wild man in the Forest of Ascetir. I left him with Percival."

"Good. Wise choice."

"The two of them have a bit of a bond. Besides, even Lancelot can't run away if Percival doesn't want him to. What about Gwen?"

"In Gaius's chambers. She's pretty miserable."

"It's all a bit of a mess, eh?"

"Just a bit." Merlin took another sip of his drink and relished the burn as it flowed down his throat.

"And what about you?" said Gwaine, gently.

"I'm here," said Merlin.

"I'm glad about that," said Gwaine, and Merlin suddenly thought, _what if he's my Percival?_ and could see in Gwaine's face that it was true. Gwaine hadn't come to talk reason into Arthur. He'd come for Merlin.

"Thanks," said Merlin.

"What for?"

Merlin raised his goblet. "Oblivion!"

Gwaine laughed, and raised his too. "Oblivion, my friend."

They both took a drink, and then Merlin said, "Do you believe in destiny?"

"Destiny? Ah, that's a big word, Merlin. I don't think too hard on why things happen. It's enough that they do."

"I wish I could think like that."

"Why can't you?"

"Dragon," said Merlin. "Can we go to bed now?"

"Did you just say…..?"

"Bed," said Merlin, and got up, somewhat unsteadily, to wave an arm in the vague direction of the bed.

It wasn't the most skilled or, indeed, the most co-ordinated sex that Merlin had ever had. But it was without doubt the most comforting. The alcohol wore off quickly but the firm press of Gwaine's body against his own was intensely reassuring and provided its own escape. Gwaine's bed was huge and lined with pillows, and Merlin lay in it and let Gwaine distract and comfort him with kisses and touches and the slick, insistent thrust of his cock. Against Merlin's hip, at first, then into his hand, but it wasn't enough; Merlin magicked oil and wrapped his legs around Gwaine's hips, fizzing with pleasure at Gwaine's _"Oh, Merlin,"_ because they didn't do this often, even thought Merlin knew Gwaine loved it.

He came feeling full and covered and shivered in the circle of Gwaine's strong arms as he relaxed, spent, into sleep.

When he awoke the sun was low in the sky, casting shadows across the room, across Gwaine's golden skin. Merlin's head was thick and his limbs heavy; it was all he could do to raise his head from the pillow of Gwaine's arm.

There was a noise, a desperate thumping on the door.

"Sir Gwaine! Sir Gwaine, are you there? Prince Arthur requests your presence on pain of death!"

Gwaine groaned, his face screwed up in disapproval. "Keep your hair on!"

He rolled away from Merlin and half-fell, half-stumbled off the bed, gathering a shirt along the way. He answered the door half-dressed, squinting at whomever was on the other side, while Merlin hurried to get his own clothes on.

"What does the Prince want?" Gwaine said.

"Your presence in the Throne Room, immediately, Sire."

"What for?"

"I have no idea, My Lord. But he was very particular upon the matter of urgency, if it pleases you."

"It really doesn't please me at all," said Gwaine, with a yawn. "But you can tell the Prince that I'm on my way."

"Yes, Sire," said the messenger, a little confused, and gratefully ran away.

Merlin handed Gwaine his trousers and boots. "Come on," he said. "I've got a really bad feeling about this."

*

The throne room was dark save for thin streaks of sun cutting through the high windows to strike the stone floor in harsh, straight lines. Most of the court was already assembled by the time Merlin and Gwaine arrived: Knights, nobles and the ordinary residents of the Castle that Arthur had begun to invite to events of state. Merlin spotted Gaius about half way up the long central aisle, and had started towards him when he noticed Arthur, standing on the steps in front of his father's throne, two figures prostate on the floor in front of him.

Merlin broke into a run.

He was dimly aware of Gwaine behind him, of Gaius trying to say something to him, but he didn't stop until he reached the dais, mindless of anything but the awful sight of Arthur glowering over Lancelot and Gwen.

"Arthur, no."

"Do you presume to tell me what to do, _Sorcerer_?"

Gwen was trembling, little sobs escaping her throat.

"Stop it," Merlin said. "I know you're hurting. But you don't want to do this. _Please._ "

"Gwaine," Arthur said. "Restrain him!"

"Merlin," said Gwaine, low-voiced, waving him back from the dais.

Merlin took a step backwards, his magic tingling through his whole body, twisting around his anger and despair.

"People of Camelot," Arthur said, his voice booming through the hall. "It is my sad duty to present to you this afternoon a pair of traitors."

The entire court fell silent: a dreadful, shocked silence such as Merlin hadn't heard since Uther was on the throne.

"They have betrayed me in the most despicable, disgraceful way," Arthur said. "They showed no respect for Camelot, or for the throne. They stand opposed to everything Camelot believes in, mocking the very honour and courage of our kingdom. I have considered their case in detail, and it is my decision-"

"But Sire!" Gaius's voice rang out clear and firm. "There has been no trial!"

"I do not need a trial," Arthur spat. "When both parties confess their guilt and especially when one was to have been my wife!"

Guinevere's howl of anguish echoed around the hall, followed by a murmur of astonishment from the assembled court. Merlin heard dissent from the Knights, from Gaius and from the people. His own voice was choked shut, his eyes filled with tears as he struggled to believe what was happening.

"I hear you," Arthur said, stretching out a hand to quiet his court. "You are right, my Lords, my friends. You should hear the confession for yourself; it is your right. Stand, traitors, and confess."

Lancelot looked up; Gwen sobbed.

"I said _stand_."

Gwaine took his arm from Merlin's shoulder and stepped forward. "Enough," he said. "Arthur, that's enough."

Arthur turned to Gwaine, his face stone-cold and still. "I say when it's enough."

Leon appeared from across the hall. "Gwaine's right, my Lord. Please reconsider your actions. Let us meet in private and discuss-"

"The time for discussion has past! I will _not_ be made a fool of in my own kingdom! I have been a fool to think I could trust those around me, to think I could rule with nothing but kind words and selfless deeds! You do not rule this land! I do! And it's about time I started acting as King!"

He turned back to Lancelot and Gwen and said, once more, "Stand!"

Lancelot stumbled to his feet and helped Gwen up with him. "My Lord," he said. "I have done wrong. I deserve neither your compassion nor your mercy. Do with me as you will. But Guinevere-"

"No," said Gwen. "It is my fault as much as yours." She looked up at Arthur, tears streaming down her face. "I will take the consequences."

Arthur looked from one to the other of them. Merlin searched his face for emotion, for pity, but found nothing but an iron resolve that chilled him to the core.

"Guinevere and Lancelot," Arthur said. "Your lies and actions have taken the form of a most base betrayal. Do you confess this?"

Lancelot hung his head. "Yes, my Lord."

Arthur turned to Guinevere. "And you, harlot?"

"Arthur!" Merlin yelled, but Gwaine held him fast again and Arthur seemed not even to have heard him.

"I made a mistake," Gwen said. "A bad, bad mistake. But it was never my wish to hurt you, My Lord. I am truly sorry."

"Let the Court hear that the traitors confess their actions," said Arthur, turning his back on Lancelot and Gwen and ascending the throne. "Take them to the dungeons. They will be executed in due course."

There was a gasp of shock and disbelief throughout the room; Gwen howled in fear and Lancelot surged forwards to throw himself at Arthur's feet, begging for Gwen's life.

Merlin stopped time.

He breathed. Huge gulps of air, like a drowning man, until the ringing in his ears stopped and he could, in some manner, think.

Would Arthur really kill them? Was he capable of that?

Somehow, Merlin couldn't take the chance. He calmed himself, gatehred his magic, stood in front of Arthur, and drew himself up to his full height.

He let time flow.

His gaze met Arthur's, saw the hate and despair burning there, and answered it with a challenge.

"I will not let this happen," Merlin said.

Arthur signalled for the guards to take Lancelot and Gwen away.

"You can join them, if you like," he said.

Gwaine once again tugged on Merlin's arm. "Come on," he said. "Before one of you says something he regrets."

Merlin glared at Arthur, but he let Gwaine drag him from the hall.

*

"I have to stop this."

Merlin paced back and forth from the door to his room to the end of Gaius's workbench, over and over and over. Gwaine and Gaius watched him, emanating near-tangible waves of concern.

"It is understandable that Arthur would be upset," Gaius said, tentatively.

"Upset, yes," said Merlin. "Running about killing people, no."

"Maybe he'll come to his senses after a day or two," Gwaine said.

"But what if he doesn't? He's executing them, remember?" Merlin paused in his pacing and thumped a fist on Gaius's table, rattling tubes and beakers. "I knew he'd take it hard but this…."

"We don't know when he's planning the execution," said Gaius. "Even if he goes through with it-"

"Never trust a noble," muttered Gwaine, darkly.

"Could it be an enchantment?" Merlin said. "That would explain why he's suddenly behaving like… like…."

"Like his father?" said Gwaine.

Merlin braced himself on the bench, head hanging down, eyes closed.

"I know this is very difficult for Arthur," said Gaius. "He's over-reacted, but his temper has always been short-lived. The Council will speak with him, help to change his mind. You too, both of you, once he's calmed down enough to listen."

But Merlin shook his head. He couldn't forget the look in Arthur's eyes: the fury biting so deep even Merlin couldn't touch him. It reminded him of another time, another fury. Someone else he couldn't save.

At least the betrayal wasn't his, this time.

"The first thing we have to do is to keep Gwen and Lancelot safe. Gwaine, go and talk to the guards. Make sure we know everything that's happening down there, especially if Arthur orders them to be moved or makes preparations for an execution."

"Of course."

"Gaius, get the council together and work out the best way to try and get Arthur to see sense."

Gaius nodded.

"What are you going to do, Merlin?" Gwaine asked.

"I'm going to visit an old friend," said Merlin. "Don't wait up."

*

"Young warlock, there is nothing I can do. No magic will make Arthur see the error of his ways. That's your job."

Merlin sat on the lip of Kilgharrah's cave, dangling his feet over the edge. The mountain fell away sharply into a perilous chasm that cut for miles into the earth. And yet Merlin felt safer here than he often had in the thick stone walls of Camelot.

"I know what they did was wrong. But this… if Arthur kills them, how will he ever forgive himself?"

Kilgharrah said nothing, watching him.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?" said Merlin. "This is what I was supposed to prevent. I failed again."

"But the Lady Guinevere and the young Pendragon were not yet married."

"I don't see what difference it makes to Arthur. He feels every bit as betrayed as if they had been, if not more. He'd never even… he has no heir, no Queen, and he's lost one of his best Knights."

"And yet, you have lost so much more," Kilgharrah said, softly, lowering his head towards Merlin's. "And still, here you are."

"I wonder how, sometimes." Merlin's mouth twisted into a dry, humourless smile. "Things would have been so different, if Freya had lived, or Balinor…."

Kilgharrah made a quiet, keening sound, and Merlin reached up and stroked the ridge of scales between the huge dragon's nostrils.

"He would be proud," Kilgharrah said, and grief bloomed in Merlin's chest. An old grief, softened from despair to sadness, but a hurt, nonetheless.

"Guinevere and Lancelot yet live," Kilgharrah said. "It is not their loss that turned Arthur's head. It is his own humiliation, the wound to his pride."

"He loves Gwen."

"Yes. But human hearts can hold many loves. You should know this, Merlin; yours is practically bursting with them."

Merlin's smile took on a warmer aspect. "Are you saying I'm of loose virtue, Dragon?"

Kilgharrah laughed. "Your human rules mean nothing to me, young warlock. I have seen things that would shock you to the core."

"I'm sure you have," said Merlin, and made a note to try and wheedle some details about those things out of the dragon one day.

One day when he wasn't terrified of what the future might hold.

"I should go back," he said. "It's getting light."

"Very well." Kilgharrah crouched, making it easy for Merlin to scramble up onto his back.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Merlin said, hanging on to the huge ridge at the top of the dragon's neck. "Sometimes it gets suffocating. Camelot."

"I know," said Kilgharrah, and launched himself into the air with one, dizzying wingbeat.

*

Merlin found the oddest thing was how little things had changed. As he returned from Kilgharrah's clearing the Lower Town was stretching into life. It was just past dawn on a Thursday, and traders' stalls already groaned with fresh wares from the supply wagons that had passed through the day before. Merlin walked slowly, soaking up familiar smells and sounds. People greeted him as he went, apparently innocent of the turmoil in the palace. Perhaps the council had managed to keep things quiet, for now, at least.

Merlin paused at a cottage close to the blacksmith's forge where Elyan still worked sometimes. The cottage door swung open without even a magic word, and Merlin stepped inside.

It was Gwen's house, still. She had moved very little into her rooms in the Castle. The bed was still made, a fire laid in the hearth ready for lighting. The barest film of dust covered the tabletop and cupboards, and a cloak lay draped over the back of the chair where Gwen used to sit and sew.

How many times had Merlin sat there with her, seeking her help and wisdom? And always Gwen had done her best for him, with kindness and generosity, even though he often asked the impossible. Time after time after time.

Merlin shut the door behind him, glad to be back in the throng of people. The sun warm on his face, he headed for home.

*

No sooner had Merlin returned to his chambers than there was a pounding on the door. Merlin opened it with trepidation; he'd recognised the voice that was yelling his name.

It was Elyan.

"Merlin, you have to do something! Please! Arthur's thrown Gwen in the dungeons!"

Merlin ushered Elyan inside. "Yes, I know. I was there."

"I only just heard," Elyan said.

"Didn't Arthur call you to court?"

Elyan shook his head. "He must have been scared I'd make trouble. And he was right! I'll beat some fucking sense into him! Do you know what they're saying?"

"Elyan, wait. Sit down."

"I don't want to sit down. I want to _do_ something. All my life Gwen's looked out for me, even when I was worth less than nothing! I can't sit back and let Arthur treat her this way! I thought you were her friend!"

Merlin's temper snapped and he yelled, "Of course I'm her friend! Do you know what she did?!"

That got Elyan to sit down, at least. He sank down onto the bench behind him, staring at Merlin wide-eyed with realisation.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin.

"You mean she really did…"

"With Lancelot, yes. That's where she was last night."

"You lied to me? Why?"

"Because I was trying to find a way to avoid all this. I failed."

"But Arthur… he must be very angry."

"Yes, you could say that." Elyan looked so lost, all the fury blown out of him in one go, that Merlin could only take pity on him. "She didn't mean to hurt anyone. She and Lancelot were close once and although she cared for Arthur I don't think…. Well, love's a complicated thing."

Elyan nodded, dumbly. "I didn't think Gwen was capable of doing anything to hurt anyone. She always puts everyone else first."

"I know. I'm sure if she could have found a way not to, she would have taken it."

"It's all wrong. This is the kind of thing I used to do all the time, and she…."

A tear rolled down Elyan's cheek; Merlin couldn't look at it. He busied himself with the books on his desk, arranging them into meaningless piles as if it was important.

"Will Arthur execute them?" Elyan said. "Can he?"

"Technically he can. He's within the law of Camelot to do so. What they did was treason. But Arthur loves her, even if it hurts. He's more honourable than that." Merlin was shocked to discover the doubt he felt, even as he tried to reassure Elyan, even as Elyan nodded in agreement, convinced of Arthur's character. "Don't worry, though," he said. "It won't come to that."

"Because you believe Arthur won't hurt her?"

Merlin couldn't answer that. Instead he said, "Because we're going to help them escape."

*

Merlin had gained illicit access to Camelot's dungeons many times over the past few years. His techniques fell under two broad categories: sneaking inside invisibly, without anyone even knowing he'd been there; or walking in bold as brass to visit a prisoner who mysteriously disappeared within the hour. On this occasion, he favoured stealth. Arthur knew Merlin very well and was bound to be expecting something like this.

Reluctant to risk alerting the guards stationed at the main entrance to the dungeons even by trying to distract them, Merlin chose instead to enter the dungeons the back way, through the tunnel. It was an easy matter to loosen the grille from its surround with a little magic and Elyan's strength. They crept into the tunnel beyond and followed it towards the cells. It was late at night and the tunnels were dark; Merlin was thankful to see the distant glow of the wall torches near the guards' area. He signalled to Elyan to stay in the shadows, and crept along the passageway, keeping himself flattened against the wall. There were half a dozen guards on duty down here, two of whom seemed already to be asleep, dozing by the brazier. The other four were playing dice.

Merlin whispered a few soft words, and gestured towards the guards with one hand. He waited a brief moment, then picked up a pebble and rolled it noisily down the passage.

Elyan gasped, but the guards continued with their game, apparently oblivious.

"What did you do?" Elyan whispered.

"I cast an illusion. They'll keep seeing that part of the room just as it was a second ago. They won't see us, or hear us, or anything. But we have to hurry. It won't last long. If you find either of them, let me know and I'll come and open the door. You take the cells over there, I'll take these. Be careful."

Elyan nodded, and set off on his quest.

Merlin made his way softly towards Gwen's cell. He'd found out where she was earlier, and he also knew that Elyan would find Lancelot right at the other end of the row he'd sent him down.

She was huddled, unmoving, in the corner of her cell, wrapped in a thin blanket.

Merlin unlocked the cell with a thought, and stepped inside. "Gwen?"

She woke with a start, and clutched the blanket at her throat.

"Are you okay?"

"Merlin?" Her voice was thick with tears and sleep.

"Yes." He came closer and dropped to his knees in front of her. "You have to leave Camelot. Before Arthur does something even more stupid."

"But if Lancelot-"

"Lancelot needs to go too. Here, I've packed a few things for you.' Merlin shrugged the canvas satchel he'd been carrying off his shoulder and handed it to her. She stared at it as if she'd never seen anything like it before in her life.

"There's food in there, enough for a couple of days, and some riding clothes. You'll find horses waiting for you half a mile along the northern road, tied to the old tree by the stream. And here's a letter." Merlin produced a piece of carefully folded parchment from his jacket pocket and pressed it into Gwen's hand. "Go to Ealdor. Give this to my mother and she'll take care of you both until you decide what to do next."

Gwen looked from the letter, to the bag, to Merlin, her expression hard to read in the near-darkness. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "I couldn't possibly impose on your mother. I should stay here and face up to the consequences of my actions."

"Gwen, no." Merlin took Gwen's hand between both of his, and squeezed. "You made a mistake, but you don't deserve this."

"It was more than a mistake, Merlin. It was a terrible thing to do."

"But staying here isn't going to make it right. This has hit Arthur so hard he's not seeing straight. He needs time to come to his senses. If he were to carry through his threat and kill you-"

"He won't! Arthur wouldn't do that. He wouldn't."

"Not if he's in his right mind. But I'm not sure he is, at the moment. And even if there's the smallest change, if he did go through with it he'd never forgive himself. Please, Gwen. If you can't go for yourself, go for Arthur's sake. And mine. _Please._ You have to go."

Gwen looked again at the bag, and the letter, and Merlin, tears streaming down her face. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to have a friend like you."

Merlin pulled her in, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "You'd do exactly the same for me. You've saved my skin more times than I can count. I can't lose you now. It'll be all right. You'll see."

Footsteps echoed down the passageway; Gwen started.

"It's all right, that's Elyan," said Merlin. "Do you want to explain to him why you won't let us rescue you?"

"Merlin, that's not fair."

"No. But we're going to get you out of here. Come on."

Before Elyan reached the cell, another figure ran past him and hurled himself into Gwen's cell. She flew from Merlin's arms to his with a soft cry of "Lancelot!"

"He wasn't going to come," Elyan told Merlin. "I told him you'd use magic if he didn't come willingly."

"Quite right," said Merlin. "Come on. We must hurry."

They quickly abandoned the cells and Elyan led them to the tunnel and escape, while Merlin guarded the rear, alert for any guards who might notice something amiss. Thankfully his illusion held, and they were soon clear of the dungeons.

Merlin gave Gwen a hug and firmly shook Lancelot's hand.

"Good luck," he said. "I'll be in touch when things here have settled."

"I don't know how to thank you," Lancelot said. "My life is worthless, but if anything had happened to Gwen…."

"Take care of each other," said Elyan. "Camelot needs you both."

"I fear we'll never step foot in Camelot again," said Lancelot. "Merlin, the boy. Will you look in on him from time to time? Make sure he's got everything he needs? As soon as I can find work I'll send money."

"Of course," said Merlin.

Gwen clutched Merlin's hand, a final, grateful squeeze. "Look after Arthur. I won't worry, all the while he has you. He's always listened to you, he cares deeply for you, respects your opinion - if anyone can help him, it's you, Merlin."

Merlin couldn't bring himself to speak. He simply squeezed her hand in return, once, tight.

And then gently let her go.


	4. Part III

"It's time for Uther's medicine again," said Gaius. "I fear I will need your help once more, Merlin."

"Of course." Merlin stood up and closed the book he'd been studying. In the weeks since Gwen and Lancelot had left Camelot, he'd been working through tome after tome of prophecy, trying to find some clue as to how to assure Arthur's destiny. But he had found nothing, and as Arthur's anger faded into bleak despair, the future of Albion and a land where magic was free slipping ever further away.

"Still nothing?" Gaius asked, his kindly face full of concern and sympathy.

Merlin shook his head. "Riddles, ramblings and the ravings of madmen."

"The future is never clear. Sometimes it's best not to try and see it too precisely. Remember the Crystal of Neahtid."

Merlin nodded; he remembered all too well.

"There's a saying my master taught me a very long time ago," said Gaius. "'Look not to the future but to the past, for the roots are the mirror of the tree's branches.'"

"I can't imagine you having a master. What was he like?"

Gaius smiled. "Grouchy, tedious and pompous, with very little sympathy for the whims of an impetuous young man. As every good master should be. Now, come along, Merlin. We haven't got all day."

*

Merlin could tell as soon as they approached Uther's chambers that it wasn't a good day. Sometimes Uther was quite lucid, merely a subdued, disinterested version of his former self. But at other times he was violent and malevolent, and it was clear, from the sound of breaking furniture and near-hysterical yelling, that today was one of those days.

"I'm glad you're here, Merlin," Gaius said.

Merlin entered the room first, magic at the ready. He was relieved to see Arthur there; restraining Uther by magical means was extremely difficult. Every inch of the man railed against it, recoiling with such revulsion and fear that Merlin couldn't bear it, even if it was for his own good. But Uther was, as ever, his worst enemy; when Gaius called upon anyone to subdue him physically, he would fight back so hard and with such panic it was near-impossible for them to hold him still without causing injury. Uther might hate magic, but when he was in an extreme state it subdued and stilled him despite himself, and gave Gaius the time he needed to treat his patient.

Arthur, however, had a calming effect on his father which no-one else did, and a knack of holding him still without harm. Of all the people in Camelot, Uther's son was the only one he consistently trusted. Even Gaius was only tolerated on the best of days; Uther could not forgive his old friend and advisor for keeping Morgana's powers hidden from him.

"I've brought the King's medicine, Sire," said Gaius.

Uther was standing in the middle of the room, fists clenched, face red with fury. Arthur was a few feet away, picking up the shards of a broken pot. He barely looked up as he said, "Thank you, Gaius. My father is in dire need of it today."

"Don't come near me with your witch's brew, Gaius!" Uther spat.

"Come now, Father," Arthur said, eyes still fixed on the floor. "You know this will help you. You do want to get better, don't you?"

"For the last time, there is nothing wrong with me, except that you won't let me rule my own fucking kingdom!"

Merlin flinched at the curse, not through prudery but because it sounded so wrong, so coarse from Uther's lips.

Arthur got wearily to his feet, and placed the bits of broken pot on the windowsill. "Now, now, Father," he said. "We've been through this before. I promise no harm will come to you. You need rest to restore the clarity of your thoughts. Let the physician treat you. For me, if not for yourself."

Uther hesitated, his fury ebbing fast. He frowned, as if deep in thought, and stumbled back towards the bed. He sat.

"Let me, Gaius," Arthur said, taking the potion from him. He tipped the contents of the bottle into a goblet, and topped it up with water from the jug on Uther's beside table. He didn't look at Merlin once.

"Here you are, Father," he said, and placed the goblet securely in Uther's hand.

Merlin held his breath; the room was very still and Arthur's footsteps echoed around the room as he took one, two paces back.

Uther raised the goblet to his lips.

And sniffed.

"No! No! You poison me!"

He flung the goblet from him; it flew across the room and through the open window bare inches from Arthur's head, clattering on the flagstones in the courtyard below.

Merlin braced himself for Arthur's response, found himself relishing the prospect of Arthur's forceful dignity. But it didn't come. Arthur slumped back, sitting on the window sill and pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He said, simply, "Gaius, fetch some more medicine for my father, please."

He sounded as weary and resigned as if he'd just lost half his men on the battlefield.

"Of course, Sire," Gaius said. He bowed and left the room, hurrying back to his workshop.

Merlin hesitated. He wanted so badly to go to Arthur, to comfort and encourage him.

At last, Arthur turned and looked Merlin straight in the eye.

"What are you hanging around for?" he said.

"I thought you might…" Merlin's words tailed off uselessly.

"Just go," said Arthur. "There's nothing you can do here."

"But I-"

"Magic is not welcome here," said Arthur, in a voice so cold it all but chilled the room. "Leave."

Merlin backed out of the room, and shut the door behind him.

He hesitated there in the corridor for an instant, pulled between the desire to get away from Arthur and his grief and fear and the threat of losing everything he'd ever wanted, and the ache in his heart to push all Arthur's stubborn defences aside and _help_ him. Between his love for Arthur and his love for magic.

Then he heard voices again.

Merlin crept back to the door, pressed his ear to the wood, reached through the dense fibres that had once been tree, and listened.

"I tried my best to warn you," Uther was saying. "But you wouldn't listen. You never listen."

"You don't know Guinevere like I do."

"Oh, really? I didn't know she'd betray you and run off with the first man who took her fancy?"

"It wasn't like that."

"It's always like that, Arthur. How many times have I tried to get it through your thick skull, you're a Prince. You're a knight of Camelot. She was just a servant. They don't think the same way as we do, they are born to serve, not to rule. It takes years of upbringing and education to make someone a good King, or to make someone worthy to marry one. To expect that of an unschooled serving girl…"

"She isn't unschooled. She's one of the cleverest people I've ever met."

"Well, she was clever enough to pull the wool over your eyes, I'll grant you that."

"She would have been a great queen," said Arthur, stubbornly.

There was a pause; Merlin's hand tightened on the doorknob.

"Arthur, you have to put this girl behind you. You're still very young. You'll meet someone of your own station, someone who will honour you and your position as you deserve. This servant is worthy of no more attention. It's a pity you couldn't have put an end to her, but that doesn't matter."

"I'm glad I didn't. Whatever she did, she didn't deserve to die."

"You have to get over this stupid compassion you feel for people! If you give your enemies an inch…"

"She is not my enemy, father."

"You would be wise to realise otherwise."

"You see enemies everywhere."

"And you see them nowhere. That's your problem, Arthur. How many times have I told you, you can't trust anyone! Even the best, the kindest, the most beautiful of people, once exposed to magic…"

"She wasn't enchanted. At least… I don't think so."

"Oh, but she was, Arthur. What other explanation is there? She appeared to be loyal…. You cared for her. The change was so sudden, one minute she was your ally, the next she turned, turned…. Cruel and twisted… How could she come to hate me so, so much? It corrupted her. That's what magic does, it corrupts and burns, it turns all things evil, evil, evil… Arthur, why did she hate me so, I meant her no harm…."

Uther's voice tailed off into sobbing. Merlin heard Arthur's footsteps crossing the room. The creak of the bed as he sat beside his father. And then… nothing.

Merlin sank to the floor, his back against the door, and wondered how he was ever going to put this right. Everything seemed to lead back to Morgana, every wrong thing that had happened. What if he'd missed his chance years ago, and it was simply too late?

"Are you all right, Merlin?"

Gaius stood before him, a fresh vial in his hand.

"Fine," said Merlin, and got to his feet.

They exchanged a glance before Gaius knocked on the door; Merlin hoped he'd managed to be encouraging.

"Come in," came Arthur's voice.

Uther still sat on the bed, his eyes red from crying, his face pale. He looked up as Gaius entered the room, and smiled weakly. "Gaius, my old friend. Have you brought my medicine?"

"Yes sire,' said Gaius.

"Gaius, what would I do with out you? Come on, Arthur, fetch me a cup."

Merlin watched as Uther drank down Gaius's potion, good as gold. When the cup was empty he clasped Gaius's hand and said, "Thank you, old friend."

Merlin and Gaius returned to their chambers in silence. Gaius looked immensely sad. But Merlin knew that nothing he could say would touch him.

*

The following morning Merlin was coming back from the market when he bumped into Gwaine in the courtyard. Gwaine greeted him warmly, and they sat on the palace steps for a while enjoying the sunshine while Gwaine waited for the groom to bring him his horse.

"I haven't seen you for a few days," said Merlin. "What's she called?"

"I'm shocked," said Gwaine. "For all you know I could have been away on urgent knightly business."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Lucinda," said Gwaine. "Lucy for short."

Merlin grinned. "Pretty?"

"Very. Quite rich, too. A woman of many talents."

Gwaine stretched back on the steps, looking warm and relaxed and just a little smug.

"It's all right for some," Merlin said.

"I'm free tonight. Fancy a few in the Rising Sun?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've got a lot of research to do."

"Research, eh? Honestly, you and your books, Merlin. It's no wonder you're so pasty-looking."

"I am _not_ pasty-looking!"

Gwaine nudged his shoulder and they were both laughing when a messenger arrived in front of them.

"Merlin, Prince Arthur wishes to see you in his chambers."

"Me?"

"Yes. Forthwith."

"Forthwith, eh? Best get cracking, Merlin, the Princess is in a hurry."

"I'll be right there," Merlin told the messenger, who ran off with a nod. Merlin scratched his head. "I wonder what he wants?"

"He probably can't work out how to do up his breeches."

"I have _never_ done his breeches up for him."

Gwaine raised his hands in defence. "Sorry, my mistake."

"Might have undone them a few times," Merlin mumbled, with a grin.

"Lancelot was right, then."

"Lancelot?"

"The man is physically incapable of telling a lie. All you have to do is get him drunk and you can enough scandal to fuel the gossips for months. Have you heard from him?"

"Just a letter from my mother to say they reached Ealdor safely and she found them somewhere to stay in the village."

"Good."

Suddenly a window was flung open way above them in the palace, and Arthur's voice boomed across the courtyard.

"Merlin! Get up here _now_!"

It was just like old times.

*

"You yelled, Sire?" said Merlin.

Arthur was sitting behind his desk, weighing his quill across his palm as if testing the weight of a dagger. "Only because you didn't have the decency to get your sorry carcass up here when I asked nicely."

"I was busy."

"Gossiping with Gwaine?"

"I'd hardly call it gossiping."

"Well. I suppose at least you're here now."

Merlin stepped closer. The desk was covered with the usual piles of parchment and ledgers, the things that made Arthur itch to leave the palace far behind and go and kill things. "How are you?" Merlin asked.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, Merlin. Reflecting. And I've come to some decisions that I hope will help us all get back to normal very soon."

"Oh yes?" said Merlin, a sense of dread creeping over him.

"I've learned some very hard lessons while my father has been ill. I think I was very eager to try and do things differently, and got carried away. Like magic, for instance."

Merlin went cold. "Magic?"

"Yes. I was far too hasty, lifting the ban the way I did."

"You didn't," Merlin said. "Except for me."

"I know."

"I haven't done anything wrong." Merlin's voice was hollow; he felt numb.

"That's not strictly true, now, is it, Merlin?" Arthur's eyes met Merlin's, his gaze steady and penetrating. "Someone helped Guinevere and Lancelot escape, and I can't think of anyone else who could accomplish it with such ease, unless they were kidnapped by Morgana herself. And if that were the case, you would have been a little more worried, I suspect."

Merlin bowed his head.

"But that's understandable; they are your friends and I know how you feel about executions. I can turn a blind eye to that. But I can't turn a blind eye to what magic has cost me. It's robbed me of my family, it's threatened my kingdom repeatedly and now it's taken my betrothed from me."

"That wasn't magic, Arthur. I know it hurts, but-"

"You are blind to magic's evil. It's as much for your benefit as anyone's that I ask you to stop practising it."

"You want me to stop practising magic?"

"It's not good for you, or the kingdom. Heaven knows how you've managed to stop it from corrupting you so far. I can't risk it any longer."

"Arthur, we went over this years ago. I can't _stop_. Magic is part of who I am, an important part, and I can't just-"

"I know. I don't expect you to stop being who you are. I'm just asking you to stop using it."

"But Arthur, I-"

Arthur's fist banged on the table; the ink pot fell off the edge and threw a puddle of ink across the floor. "This is not a matter for discussion. I will _not_ allow magic to be used in this Kingdom. Not even by you. Do you understand?"

Merlin glared at him, a single moment of challenge. But of course, Arthur didn't back down.

"I understand," he said. "My Lord."

"Good. You may leave."

"The floor, there's a mess…."

"You're not my servant any more, Merlin. Leave."

"If I'm not your servant, and I can't use magic, what am I? What can I ever be?"

Arthur sighed. "That's up to you, Merlin. You're so hot on equality? Well, you get to make some decisions of your own. So long as you abide by the rules of the land, you can do whatever you like. Be a physician, like Gaius. I'm sure he could use the help. Or go and clean Gwaine's boots. I don't care. Just _go_."

"I know she hurt you," Merlin said, choking back tears. "But this isn't the way-"

Arthur's face flushed with anger, his fists clenched and Merlin knew he was moments away from calling the guards. Merlin backed towards the door.

"You'll change your mind, about magic, about all of it," Merlin said. "This isn't you. Not really. It's not."

"You do talk some rubbish, Merlin," said Arthur, and simply turned away.

Merlin slammed the door behind him.

*

Gwaine was still stretched out on the steps, basking like a lion.

"Come on," said Merlin.

Gwaine looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. "Come on where?"

"The Rising Sun. I've changed my mind." Merlin stood tall, his fists clenched at his sides.

"But Merlin, it's still a while off noon. What about…"

Gwaine looked carefully at him, then said, "All right. Doesn't look like my horse is turning up any time soon anyway." He pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself down. "We could just go up to my chambers, if you want to talk-"

Merlin shook his head: tight, stiff little shakes. "I need to get out of here."

"All right, then," said Gwaine. "I'll say this, Merlin. Life is never boring with you around."

Merlin couldn't even manage a smile.

*

By the time they got to the Inn, despite Merlin's silence, Gwaine had assessed the situation accurately enough to order a flagon of ale and his usual room. Once they were upstairs Merlin shoved Gwaine against the safely locked door and kissed him hard, tugging at his clothes, grunting in frustration when he fumbled with ties and buckles.

"Woah!" said Gwaine, although he didn't show any sign of slowing down. "Merlin, are you okay?"

"No. Get your shirt off."

"You'll have to give me some room, then."

This was true: Merlin was pressed up tight, covering every inch of Gwaine's lean, taut body. Reluctantly, he stepped back, and his eys devoured the sight of Gwaine's broad chest and tight stomach as he peeled off his shirt.

"Have you got any oil?" Merlin asked.

Gwaine's eyes went wide; Merlin nibbled on his lower lip, all nervous energy.

"Yes," said Gwaine. "As it happens."

"I want you to."

"Are you sure."

"Yes. Hard. I want you to do it hard and fast and really, really soon."

However heartfelt Merlin's urgency, he was forced to patience by Gwaine's consideration. The more desperate Merlin became, the more gentle Gwaine was, until Merlin was naked and all but sobbing with need, thrusting into Gwaine's fist and whimpering, "Please, Gwaine, please…."

"We don't have to, I could-"

"Gwaine. Fuck me."

"Oh God," groaned Gwaine. "Turn around."

Merlin turned and leaned forwards, bracing his hands on the back of a chair. Gwaine steadied him with one hand at the small of his back, and poured oil down the crack between Merlin's buttocks. He smoothed it down with a thumb, circling Merlin's hole. More oil, and then a finger; pushing, twisting, stroking. More oil; two fingers. More oil; three. Sliding in and out, filling and not-filling. Opening him up; not enough, not enough, not enough.

More oil - Merlin was amazed the bottle wasn't empty by now - and then, at last, Gwaine's cock butted at Merlin's hole. Hard and eager, thick and warm.

"Yes," hissed Merlin, and pushed back. His fingers tightened on the chair in front of him and his shoulders flexed. He hollowed his back, tipping his hips for a better angle and _there_. Gwaine sank inside him, reached around to take Merlin's cock in his fist, and finally began to fuck.

Merlin lost himself in it. Every thrust stole another bit of his anger and grief, and filled him instead with a deep, primal need to fuck and fuck and fuck; to be stuffed with Gwaine's prick and rub against Gwaine's hot palm. To come: hard, wrenching jerks of it, sticky over the chair and fuck knew where else.

Gwaine thrust faster, damp skin slapping sticky. He surged and pulsed inside Merlin's body, panting breath, twitching muscle, a sloppy-wet kiss on Merlin's back, right between his shoulder blades, Gwaine's beard rough against his skin.

The world went still and quiet. They disengaged with an obscene pop and Merlin found it hard to move, slow like dreaming. Gwaine helped him clean up, got them both on the bed and under the covers. Merlin knew he'd want it again. Softer. As if to make it up to Gwaine, because somehow he felt that hadn't been fair. It had been what Merlin had needed, but that didn't make it fair.

"What did Arthur do?" Gwaine said, softly.

"Banned magic."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Gwaine tossed the hair out of his eyes, and rubbed a few circles across Merlin's chest, around his heart. "It's not just about the magic, is it?"

"It's never just about the magic," Merlin said.

*

Merlin sat at his empty table, and stared at the wood. It was sturdy and old, polished with years of use. Merlin had bought it from one of Geoffrey's clerks when he retired to his daughter's farmstead.

Merlin had had three desks in his years at Camelot. The first was little more than a hollowed-out crate, the second a wobbly bench that Gaius gave him. This was the third. He loved it. He ran his finger along the grain in the wood. With the barest tingle of magic he read the tree, the years it had stood in the forest, the storms it had weathered, the droughts it had endured. It had fallen in thunder many years before Merlin was even born, but the sap still thrummed.

"Merlin, Arthur wants you in the council chambers."

Merlin looked up and registered Gaius's worried expression, the concern in his eyes.

"I don't know what for. Anything I have, he doesn't want any more."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"Why? I don't mend his socks any more and he won't let me use my powers."

"You're still his friend, Merlin. His father is very bad today. I think Arthur's responsibilities weigh more heavily on him than ever."

"He doesn't listen to me any more. He's not unkind, or arrogant like he used to be. He just takes no notice. It's as if he's lost his essence, his lifeblood, the thing that makes him Arthur. He's a shadow. The dragon warned me of this, Gaius. He said that Gwen would break his heart, and the downfall of Camelot would follow. I can't change the future."

"Your destiny is to help Arthur reach his. He's not King yet and he certainly hasn't united all of Albion."

"I know. I don't understand. But I don't see how I can save Arthur this time."

Gaius patted Merlin gently on the shoulder. "You'll find a way, my boy. You always do."

Merlin gave him a smile; Gaius's faith in him never wavered, and it had kept Merlin going more than once when all seemed lost. "I suppose I'd better go and see what he wants."

Merlin got up from his empty desk, picked his jacket off the back of his chair and turned for the door. He was half way there when he turned and said, "He told me once that madness runs in his family."

It hung there in the air for a moment, ugly and cruel, before Gaius replied, "In a manner of speaking."

"In a manner of speaking? What does that mean?"

"It's complicated. But it is true to say that there is a legend, of the ancient kings, that tells of a madness that comes over the Pendragon line, under certain circumstances."

"So Arthur…."

"I have always thought it unlikely. He takes so much after his mother, and the circumstances of his birth were peculiar. I had hoped that the magic running in his veins might protect him from it."

"I hope so."

Gaius nodded.

Merlin went another couple of steps, then paused again. "Gaius?"

"Yes, Merlin?"

"You said the madness came under certain circumstances. What circumstances, exactly?"

"Betrayal," Gaius said, simply. "Merlin, you should watch Arthur carefully now. More so than ever. I expect only time will tell."

Merlin nodded grimly, and continued to the council chambers.

*

He found Arthur alone in the council chambers. He was sitting in the seat usually occupied by Sir Leon, with his feet up on the high-polished table. He was staring at the ceiling, completely still.

Arthur was _never_ still.

"You sent for me, Sire."

"Did I? I suppose I must have."

"If you have no need of me…"

"I suppose you have things to do for Gaius."

"He keeps me busy."

"I'm sure he does. Hm."

Merlin waited, but Arthur remained silent, still staring at the ceiling, hands folded across his chest.

"Gaius said your father is particularly unwell today," said Merlin. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Arthur gave a short, bitter bark of a laugh. "No you're not. He used to kill your kind without a thought."

"That doesn't mean I want him to suffer."

"Really? Not even in your wildest dreams? Where's your sense of vengeance, Merlin?"

"Vengeance is pointless. It satisfies only itself, leaving you hollow and cold."

"Ah, that's my Merlin. So full of wisdom, so sensible. I hate to say this but there are times I miss the old days. When you were just the worst servant I ever had. Remember the time you helped me escape from the castle by dropping me in a pile of manure?"

"It's not like you ever let me forget. You'd think I'd single-handedly thrown you out of the window."

"You may as well have done! Any other idiot would at least have made sure he had enough rope!"

Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin at last, and they exchanged a look, a smile. It was all too brief, though, fading from Arthur's eyes in an instant.

"Those days are gone. This is a new era, Merlin. Who knows what the future holds in store?"

By the dull tone of Arthur's voice, it didn't sound as though he held much hope that the future might be bright, at all.

"You can leave, Merlin. I won't keep you from your duties."

Merlin frowned. "When did you last get out for some fresh air?"

"I'm out on the training field every day. Well, most days."

"Two days ago. You trained with the Knights two days ago, and you left them to it after an hour. When did you last go hunting?"

Arthur shrugged.

"Right. I'm going to cancel all your appointments for tomorrow, and we're going to the Darkling Woods. You can shoot some things."

Arthur's face brightened, almost imperceptibly.

"I'll bring you your breakfast at dawn. All right?"

"Well. All right, I suppose. If you insist."

"I think I do. I'll go and make the arrangements."

Arthur waved him away and watched him turn to the door. Just as Merlin was leaving, he said, "You don't even _like_ hunting, Merlin."

"That's right," said Merlin. "See you in the morning, Sire."

*

The next day dawned bright and clear, and Merlin took Arthur his breakfast as he'd promised. Arthur pushed his food around his plate while Merlin picked out his hunting clothes and laid them out ready for him. Then Merlin waited while Arthur got washed and dressed, not a word passing between them. Apart from the echoing silence it was a familiar routine, one that had irritated and comforted Merlin in turn over the years. It had never felt quite like this.

They clattered out of the courtyard and took the path to the Darkling Woods, taking advantage of a long straight strip just north of Camelot to give their horses their heads and go to a gallop. At the first thickening of trees Arthur paused, crossbow ready, and felled a partridge. Merlin jumped from his horse and collected the bird. A few moments later there was another, and later still a pair of rabbits. With each kill Arthur became more alert, but he said little, not even pausing to give Merlin his usual lecture on how important it was to be quiet, take steady aim, or be selective in one's target. At one time Merlin would have been grateful for the silence, but now it just worried him.

It was around noon when Arthur signalled for Merlin to halt behind him. He was intent on something he'd seen further ahead in the woods.

"What is it?"

"Shh. It's a stag. Can you see it?"

Merlin peered into the trees. "No."

"There, to the left of that old oak."

Merlin could see nothing but trees and forest darkness, however hard he looked.

"Honestly, Merlin, you're blind as a bat," Arthur murmured, and urged his horse forwards.

"Arthur, I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Merlin.

But Arthur had already gone. Rushing through the woods at a gallop, almost out of sight before Merlin had got his heels to his own horse.

At first Merlin could see a glimpse of Arthur just ahead, weaving through the trees. Then he noticed a wisp of smoke or mist rolling along the forest floor, waves of it cresting around his horse's legs, and suddenly Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

"Arthur!" Merlin yelled. "Arthur, stop! Where are you?"

There was nothing but silence, the mist thickening by the minute.

Merlin dismounted, soothed his horse and tied him to a nearby tree, then ventured on by foot.

But the fog got worse and the sun got weaker, until it was all Merlin could do to see well enough to put one foot in front of the other.

Then there was a clearing, too round to be natural, the grass too green, the air too clear. The fog roiled at the edge but penetrated no further.

Merlin stepped forwards boldly to the middle of the clearing, and stretched wide his arms.

"Come on! I know you're here. Show yourself!"

After a long moment, a familiar figure, dressed head to foot in black, emerged from the fog to stand in front of him.

"Morgana."

"Merlin. Have you lost weight?"

Merlin didn't dignify that with an answer.

"Is Arthur still running you ragged? My poor childless brother? How does he fare now his whore has betrayed him?"

"Don't call her that."

"Oh, come now Merlin, do you still hold a torch for her? After all she's done to wreck your clever plans?"

"She hasn't wrecked anything."

"I beg to differ." Morgana started to move around him in a circle, trailing her arms, fingers spread. "I've been having dreams, Merlin. Such dreams."

"What is it this time, Morgana? Still dreaming of the throne?"

"The destiny of Camelot is not to be wasted on some puppet-King."

"It's to be wasted on you, then? Because that worked out so well for you, didn't it?"

"Not me." Merlin thought he saw a flicker of regret in Morgana's eyes, but barely more than that. "Mordred."

"Mordred?!"

"He has not forgotten the grave injustice dealt to him and our people by Camelot. Mordred's power is widely foretold, Merlin. I'm surprised you have not heard of it."

"The future is not set in stone. You of all people should know that."

"True enough. But you have to admit, things have been going my way lately. The portents and signs are clearer than ever. You can try and make Arthur into a King with all your tricks and magic, Merlin, but it won't matter, in the end. Arthur is a broken thing. It won't even be that hard. He's already destroying Camelot piece by piece. Pushing away his Knights, his friends - even you, Merlin. The final battle will be a pathetic, trifling thing, and all of Albion will fall to Mordred. Then I shall rule at his side, as I was always meant to do."

"You're underestimating Arthur, and his Knights. Didn't you learn that lesson last time?"

"Even if I have to wait until Arthur's old and grey, I will simply brush his bones off the throne for Mordred to take. Look at him, Merlin. He's not yet thirty and already fading. He will bear no sons to follow him now his darling Gwen has left him. One way or another, Camelot is mine."

She was still circling, and Merlin felt dizzy from following her. He was waiting for the spell, the blink of magic, a binding. But none came.

"It's almost a shame you won't be there to see it. But the prophecies are clear on that, too. The great Emrys will come and make a king, and then Mordred will come and crush him."

She finally came to a stop, traced a finger across his cheek.

"Bye bye," she said, and vanished.

A trickle of bright red blood fell down Merlin's face; the world span and he feared some silent magic for an instant. But it passed; he regained balance and breath but couldn't shake the dark fear that had filled him to the core.

"Merlin! Merlin, where in Hell's name have you got to? _Merlin!!_

Arthur's voice sounded so much like his usual self that Merlin grinned. "Here! You wandered off!"

Arthur strode into the clearing, and glared at him. "Will you stop messing about and come back to the horses? We must get going. I've had an epiphany."

"A what?"

"An epiphany. The sudden realisation of a great truth."

"I know what an epiphany means. I was surprised you had one."

"It's a royal thing. Great leaders have them all the time. Are you coming or what?"

Merlin trotted obediently along at Arthur's side as they strode through the forest. "What was it, then? Your great truth?"

"This sickness I've got. I thought it was love, but I was wrong. A simple romantic betrayal could never cause such pain."

"Love's a complicated thing," said Merlin gently. "I know how hard it can be, but-"

"I had a vision, Merlin. Just now, in the forest, I saw a grail, a Cup of Healing to match the Cup of Life itself. This grail cures not the body but the mind and heart. With it I shall restore not only myself but also my father's sanity, and Camelot will have a King and heir once more."

"Where is it?"

"Ah. That's the challenge. No-one seems to know. But no matter. The Knights of Camelot are more than capable of completing a simple quest. I shall send them forth tomorrow, at first light."

"Arthur, no! That'll leave Camelot defenceless!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. I have a whole army at my disposal. Besides, we are mostly at peace. Just a few skirmishes on the northern borders, nothing our troops can't handle."

"But Cenred's kingdom-"

"Cenred is dead. It's only a matter of time before all the neighbouring kingdoms beg to be under the rule of Camelot. You'll see. With my father back at full strength and me at his side, we shall not fail."

The horses whinnied as they approached. Merlin reached out and stroked the graceful neck of his mount, comforted by the familiar warmth of its hide, the nuzzle of its nose as it checked Merlin's pockets for treats. He absent-mindedly pulled a small carrot from his shoulder bag and fed it while he watched Arthur climb onto his own horse, shoulders set, head held high. It should be a moment of optimism, of relief. But Morgana's words rang in Merlin's head, and as they rode back to Camelot he felt only dread.

*

Merlin wandered the little herb garden at the back of the Castle, trying to focus on the collection of things Gaius had asked him to find. It was a long list, but then he was fairly certain that Gaius had wanted him out from underfoot for a while. Since Arthur had stopped his magical work, Merlin was at a loose end, and Gaius never could stand to see anyone idle.

Merlin stroked his palm over a head of lavender and paused to enjoy the calming scent. On a whim he picked a few stems. Gwen had made him a pomade of lavender last summer but the scent was fading.

Merlin sighed, and headed towards the sage beds.

There were two small boys playing there. Merlin recognised them at once. Galahad and Gareth were fighting with little wooden swords, missing more than they hit but faultless in their enthusiasm. As Merlin approached, Galahad stopped and waved; Gareth nearly took advantage of his inattention but stopped, his sword scant inches from Galahad's head, and withdrew.

"Merlin!" Galahad said, beaming. "We're Knights!"

"I can see that," said Merlin.

"We heard that the Prince is sending all the big Knights away," Gareth said, solemnly. "So we thought we'd better hurry up and get good."

"You can help us!" Galahad said. "Try and be the emeny… the enenem… the baddies!"

Merlin dropped his basket, and joined them.

An hour later, with bruised shins and a happier heart than he'd had in months, Merlin delivered Gaius his herbs and went to have a wash. Small boys had a good deal of energy, Merlin had discovered, and he felt distinctly out of condition since his life had become more about books than waiting hand and foot on spoiled princes.

"You're in a good mood," Gaius observed.

"Am I?" said Merlin, with a grin.

"I'm pleased. You've been moping around with a face like a wet Wednesday, my boy. You should collect herbs more often, if it has such a positive effect."

Merlin thought of Galahad's earnest little face and irrepressible energy and smiled all over again. "I think I might."

"Good. Gwaine came by while you were out. He said he'd see you in the Rising Sun tonight if you were passing that way. He leaves tomorrow."

That wiped all traces of good humour from Merlin in a second. "Oh."

"Arthur still won't listen to you?" said Gaius.

"He doesn't even notice I'm there half the time. He's determined that the Knights should find this Cup, and that's all there is to it. Maybe you should try. He does respect your opinion, or at least he used to."

"I spoke with him yesterday after the council meeting but he won't listen to reason. I tried to explain that the Cup is a lost relic, and his other advisers have already discussed the strategic weakness of sending the Knights away."

"I've never seen him like this, Gaius. Even when things have been really bad, he's always fought back. It's as though he just doesn't care any more. Perhaps he's right. Perhaps his only hope is to find the Cup."

"I know it sounds harsh, but most people get over heartbreak without recourse to magical drinking vessels, Merlin."

Merlin saw the sadness in Gaius's eyes, and recognised the voice of experience. "I know," he said, softly. "But Arthur's never been very good at dealing with things like this."

"Even so, to send out all the Knights this way, when Camelot is vulnerable…"

"That's why I have to go and look for the Cup myself."

"Merlin!"

"I just need to find out where it is. Then I can get it, bring it back and the Knights can come home."

"And how, exactly, do you to propose to find it?"

"There must be a record of it somewhere. Or I could do a locator spell."

"But Merlin, it's no use. As far as I know there _is_ no Cup."

"What?"

"I've never heard of such a thing. I'm sure if such a thing existed it would be in the records somewhere, but I've never come across it."

"Perhaps you missed it. There's a lot of books there; it might be something you've never read."

Gaius looked dubious, as if such a thing as a book he hadn't read was impossible, but he nodded nonetheless. "It's probably best to be sure."

Merlin grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the archive!"

"Good luck!" Gaius called, as Merlin left the room at a run.

*

Geoffrey looked at Merlin with his usual superior expression and shook his head. "I am very familiar indeed with the tomes on magical artefacts of every kind. There is no Cup of Healing. If it were twin to the Cup of Life it would surely have been mentioned in the accounts of that Cup's making, but there is no record of any kind."

"Somewhere else, then… a history where someone used such a Cup. A story, even, a myth?"

"The legends of the fallen kings tell of the Cup of Life, the grail. But only that. No other Cup is mentioned."

"Let me look."

"But I can assure you-"

"I need to see for myself," Merlin said, stubbornly. He was braced for an argument, but Geoffrey didn't push his point any further. He indicated for Merlin to sit at a small table in a corner of the potions and medicines section, and disappeared into the depths of the archive.

He emerged several minutes later with a large pile of books, deposited them on the table in a pile of dust, sneezed, and left Merlin to it.

Merlin settled himself in for a long night.

He had never really considered the legends very closely, except for the parts about magic, and even those only when he truly needed to. It was fascinating to read of times when magic was accepted and flourished throughout the land, but it left him with a sense of deep melancholy and unease. It wasn't always easy to tell myth from history, and some of the accounts were hard to read. Merlin wanted more than anything to bring magic back to the land, but it clearly wouldn't be plain-sailing. There would always be the Sigans and Morguases of the world who used their power for ill, whether that power was magical, political or derived from the brute strength of armies. Banning magic wasn't the answer, Merlin was convinced of that. But on the other hand, he wasn't sure what the answer was, either.

The past didn't see to offer many clues, either, legend or history. Over and over again as Merlin read, devouring first the pile that Geoffrey had left and then searching for himself among the archive shelves for stories even older, over and over he learned of kings who failed, of magic that failed, of evil triumphing and mistakes remade, over and over and…

… Over.

A little before dawn, the book Merlin was holding slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor.

The round table. The ancient kings. The futile quests. The betrayal. A kingdom united, only to fall apart because of a broken-hearted king.

The sword forged in the dragon's breath.

Merlin left history scattered on the old stone floor, and ran.

He didn't hear the stifled gasp or the patter of the feet that followed him.

*

"I want you to tell me what's going on, _now_. No more riddles, no more lies. I want the truth!"

Kilgharrah gazed down at Merlin, eyes narrowed. "I have never lied to you, young warlock."

"It depends what you call a lie," said Merlin, darkly. "You certainly haven't told me the whole truth, have you?"

"The truths I know span centuries. Would you sit and have me lecture you your whole life? I have always told you what you need to know, Merlin. Even then, you rarely heed it."

"You know what's going to happen. To Camelot, to Arthur. To me. You know already. You know because it's happened before."

"Do I?"

Merlin scanned the dragon's face for any reaction, so much as a twitch to show that he was right. But Kilgharrah stared back at him, as enigmatic as ever. "I'm not the first Merlin you've advised. Arthur isn't the first Arthur you've helped make king."

"There is only one Merlin, only one Arthur." Suddenly the Great Dragon flinched, as if in sudden, terrible pain. "And there are a great many things of which I cannot speak."

"Kilgharrah?" Merlin's hand went out to touch the dragon, to soothe, an impulse buried deeper than his anger. He could reach only the dragon's leg, but still he stroked his magic into Kilgharrah's scales and deeper, into muscle, blood and bone. The anger fled from him, leaving him with nothing but compassion and a deep, aching despair. Kilgharrah sighed.

"I cannot answer your questions, warlock," he said, softly, and nuzzled Merlin's head with his snout, gentle beyond belief for a creature so huge. "I cannot tell your future and I have made your destiny clear. Let me take you to the valley of the fallen kings; seek out Taliesyn, perhaps he can help you more than I."

"Taliesyn? I'm not sure I trust him. Should I?"

"And there, another thing I cannot tell you. Trust your heart, Merlin. Trust your magic. I can do no more."

Merlin touched the dragon's snout, felt the warmth there, the buried fire.

"Take me there," he said.

Merlin climbed onto the dragon's back, and flew.

*

The early light was weak and watery; especially so in the steep-sided chasm that was the valley of the fallen kings. Merlin picked his way across the rough stone path, trying not to touch the rock, slimy with moss and lichen, that channelled him forwards. Old magic sang in his ears as he delved deeper. The ancient stone carvings and ruined pillars he'd barely had time to acknowledge last time he was here now called loudly to him, each one a tiny clue to the future, to ultimate destruction.

The thought that everything he'd fought for was already decided sat hollow in Merlin's belly, and threatened to consume him. His whole life had been for this: to help Arthur unite Albion and bring magic back to the land. If he could not do that, if everything he'd fought for was already lost…

He was startled, if not surprised, to find Taliesyn standing in front of him.

"We meet again, Emrys."

"You knew I'd come."

"Well, yes," said Taliesyn. "It's a gift, of sorts."

"You helped me here once. You saved Arthur's life. You said it wasn't his time."

"That is true."

"Is it his time now?"

"I can assure you, Arthur sleeps well and safe in his bed. No harm has come to him."

"That's not what I meant."

Taliesyn glanced down, as if sheepish. "I know. But what you have always failed to appreciate is that it is not the answer that's important. It's the question."

"All right then. How's this for a question. How many Arthurs have you known? How many Merlins? How many times have you seen Camelot fall?"

Everything went still and silent, as if time itself had stopped, except for the crystal chime in Merlin's head.

"Almost more than I can bear," Taliesyn whispered. There was a crack of thunder, a bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky hit Taliesyn straight and true, and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Taliesyn!" Merlin flew to his side, checking the old man for signs of life. They were there, just: a weak pulse, a flutter of a heartbeat. Merlin ripped off his jacket to make a pillow and made Taliesyn as comfortable as he could on the mossy floor. "Speak to me," Merlin said, softly. "Can you hear me?"

"I yet live," Taliesyn rasped out, a voice of crushed glass and sand. "It is not over, Emrys. You have power greater than I have ever known. Don't forget that."

"I already failed," Merlin said. "Years ago, when you showed me the crystal cave. I didn't change anything. I made it happen. You can't change destiny."

"And that is my hope." Taliesyn shut his eyes again, a tiny smile on his lips. "Leave me, Emrys. This is our last chance. Go. Ask the right questions."

He went limp in Merlin's arms; asleep, not dead. Not yet.

The crystals sang yet louder in Merlin's head. His temples pounded with it; his eyes ached; sharp pain thrust itself through his skull.

Merlin got to his feet and followed the path to the cave.

*

The inside of the cave was painfully bright after the gloom of the valley, the crystals alive with reflected light. Merlin hesitated on the threshold, uncertain as to how to proceed.

The crystals sang; constant, jarring disharmony all around him.

 _"It is not the answer that's important. It's the question."_

Merlin took a tentative step forwards.

He caught a flicker of movement in a crystal to his left. A fraction of an image forming…

It would have been easy to watch passively, as he had before, as the future revealed itself to him in a sequence of disjointed, terrifying moments. But that left him at the whim of fate, a pawn, not an architect of the future.

He had seen the answers. But he had never understood the question. He had never _asked_ the question.

Merlin's fingers twitched. He reached out and touched the crystal, felt the cool, smooth surface, flat against his fingertips. He spoke short, clipped words and infused both speech and touch with a push of magic and layered meaning; with the authority and power of an ancient wizard who could shape mountains and call dragons.

The song of the crystals changed to a sweet harmony, with the deep resonance of a chorus of well-struck bells, and Merlin's very bones vibrated with it.

Then they showed him what he truly needed to see.

Arthur.

Arthur pulling a sword from a stone; sometimes Excalibur, sometimes not, but always a triumph. Arthur gathering his Knights to the round table. Arthur and Guinevere enthroned in a court so rich, so happy it seemed as if nothing could ever make it perish. Sometimes it lasted a lifetime. Sometimes it lasted a year. But never long enough.

Lancelot and Guinevere. Madness and exile. A madman's quest for the Cup of Life.

Morgana and Mordred, and a battlefield running with blood.

Merlin fell to his knees, eyes shut tight against the crystals. His mind screamed at him, full of peril and betrayal and disappointment, of stories so close to memories he thought he'd burst with it. Too many lives. Too much time. And now…

Gasping for breath, his head pounding, Merlin hauled himself up on shaky legs and looked again. "The future," he murmured. "I must see the future."

He saw Arthur die in the mud and filth; Gwaine and Lancelot, Elyan and Percival, all of them perished on a field of blood. He saw Mordred on the throne; saw the fire and suffering; Kilgharrah chained once more with magic, forced to do Morgana's will.

He saw magic drain from the land forever, and then the barbarians came, and everything good from the world was gone.

The last time, Taliesyn had said. Whatever happened, this was the last time he and Arthur could dance this dance.

"But what about me?" he screamed at the cave, his voice echoing back at him a thousand times over. "Why was Arthur alone? Why didn't I stop it? Why?"

He was close to exhaustion, but he managed to collect his power one more time and look deep into the face of the crystals with clear intent. He searched the past for that final battle, and this time thought not of Arthur but himself. _I should have been there to save him! Why wasn't I there?_

He could see nothing in the crystal but a reflection of the cave itself. He looked closer; no. It was a cave within a cave within a crystal, and another and another, stretching to infinity, to the very core of power, and all at once the crystals exploded with light and energy and showed him everything, too much, too bright, too deep; Merlin screamed and shut his eyes, anything to close out that image. But as soon as his eyes were shut the walls closed in. His skin tingled and when he opened his mouth the noise that came out was not words, or human sounds, but song.

He felt his face; his smooth skin had turned cool and hard.

Run. He had to run. The crystals were possessing him, claiming him, trapping him. He had to _run_.

Merlin summoned all his strength and forced his legs to move. One step in front of the other, still human, not stone yet, one step and then another.

Every movement caused him crushing pain, took more effort than he ever dreamed he had. Even as he glimpsed the dull, natural light outside the cave it felt a lifetime away, and for all his determination, the temptation to stop, to sink into that still, quiet existence was terrifying in its appeal. The temptation to put an end to all this, for good.

To see nothing but time, to hear nothing but song. To feel nothing at all.

Even as he half-staggered, half-fell out of the cave, a part of Merlin whispered, "Yes."

*


	5. Part IV

Time was meaningless, pain was constant. Memories tangled with prophecy and Merlin floated, the world around him charcoal-black and rough. Texture and sound drifted through his mind, uninterrupted for the most part. The crystals sang in Merlin, fought for his blood and bone.

Then consciousness, or something like it, drifted in. The present came and went like dreams, when Merlin listened.

*

"How is he, Arthur?"

"About the same. I told you, Gwaine, I'll let you know as soon as there's any change."

"I'll stay here, if it's all the same to you, Princess."

*

"Gaius, you should get some rest. I'll sit with him for a while."

"Thank you, Arthur. You're very kind."

"I care about him too, you know."

"Yes, my boy. I know. Perhaps you should tell him that. When he's better."

A pause. "Yes. Perhaps I should."

*

"I'm so glad that Arthur called for us. Poor, poor Merlin."

"I never thought he'd forgive us, not even for Merlin."

"It's all my fault. This is a punishment for our wrongdoing, Lancelot, I know it is."

"Shhh, Gwen. That makes no sense. If it were a punishment for us, why hurt poor Merlin? He's the kindest, bravest man I've ever met. It's true that it burns me from the inside out to see him like this, but no God I know would sacrifice a man so good to make my torture worse. Besides." A pause, a kiss. "Is it really so terrible? You heard Arthur. What's past is past. Perhaps things can be different now."

"I hardly dare hope."

"Try, my dearest, try. It's hope that Merlin needs now, more than anything."

*

"Merlin, it's been long enough now, you hear me? I'm having all sorts of trouble with women. I think I might even have fallen in love. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, and Arthur made me scrub out the stables because I got drunk and sang outside his door. I am nothing without you, my friend. Wake up. And next time you go for a run in the woods, take me with you, you hear?"

*

"Is he getting any better, Sire?"

"Hello, Galahad. He's not getting any worse, but, no. Gaius says there's nothing more that he can do. We just have to wait, and hope that one day he-" Louder, this, closer, "-gets off his lazy arse and back to work!"

A shocked giggle, then. "I miss him so. He was so kind to me."

"I know. Merlin's like that. A total idiot, mind you. Did I ever tell you about the time we got captured by slave traders?"

"No! Will you tell me? Please? Now?"

"Later. I'll come by after supper, and tell it to you then, if your mother won't mind."

"She won't. Thank you, Sire!"

"Now, run along and-"

*

~Merlin.~

Who-

~Merlin. Wake up. It's not your time.~

~Freya?~

Warm clammy cold hot touch, skin smooth, voice like water, soft.

~It's not too late to change things. You have more power than you have ever had. Take the future and make it yours, this time.~

~I love you so. And Arthur….~

~Make it yours.~

And gone.

*

"He looks so frail."

"He will get strong again, Arthur. He'll be back at your side before you know it."

"Ah, Gwen, I missed you so."

Wait…

"Me too. I'm sorry I… I'm sorry for everything."

Arthur's voice. Rough-raw. "Don't. It's over now. Lancelot makes you happier than I have ever seen you."

"Yes, he does. But-"

*

 _Merlin._

No.

 _Merlin._

I can't.

 _Merlin._

But if-

 _You are a dragonlord. Come home._

*

The room's too bright, the world too loud and brash, and Arthur says, "thanks, Gaius, take this candle, it's longer. I don't mind the dark."

And Arthur's real and whole and soft-voiced hero, and Merlin sleeps so light now he can almost...

*

There's snoring.

Merlin moves his hand, a twitch, all numb and tingling, but…

He's almost there.

*

Arthur's sitting in the corner of Merlin's room with Galahad in his lap. He's reading from a book, tracing the words with one finger so that Galahad can see the letters. It's an old book, fairytales and goblins and a powerful wizard.

Merlin smiles.

"Arthur," Galahad says. "Is Merlin a wizard?"

"Merlin," says Arthur, "Is the most powerful wizard that ever lived. And the most brave, and most wise."

And Merlin croaked, "That's warlock to you, dollophead."

And back.

*

"Can you actually taste that soup at all, or is it just going straight down your gullet?"

"It's not always a good thing to taste Gaius's soup, believe me." Merlin finished the bowlful with a satisfied smack of his lips. "Although that's pretty good, actually."

"You're disgusting."

"And you're not the one who hasn't eaten anything in a month. So shut up."

"You can't speak to me like that," said Arthur, assuredly, as if even after all these years, saying it out loud would make it so.

Merlin grinned at him.

"It's good to have you back," said Arthur, his voice rich with sincerity and, if Merlin wasn't mistaken, more than a little affection. "Gaius said you can get out of bed for a bit, if you want."

"Sounds good. I'm sorry, Arthur. For all the trouble."

"It's okay. I'll deduct something from your wages, if you like. And next time you run off into dangerous territory, tell someone where you're going, first."

"How did you find me, anyway? Gaius was a bit vague about it, he just said someone saw me leave."

"On the back of a dragon, yes, that's right."

Merlin looked down at his hands, the corner of his mouth trying to twitch into a smile. "You didn't say I couldn't ride dragons."

"Gaius tells me you're a dragonlord, as well as everything else."

"Hmm."

Arthur sighed.

"That's all? You're not angry with me?"

"I was bloody furious, Merlin. But you slept through most of it. And Gaius can be quite… persuasive, when he wants to be. So can my Knights. Especially Gwaine."

"I think I dreamed something about Gwaine."

"He's been terrible. Couldn't do a thing with him. Always hanging around like a wet puppy."

"So who saw me?"

"Galahad."

"Galahad?!"

"He informs me that he was looking for you, to hand over some bundle of herbs you'd left in the garden. He thought you were involved in some kind of adventure, so he followed you. Right to the part where you left with the dragon. Fortunately he overheard your conversation and realised you were going to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. So when you didn't turn up the next morning he told his mother, who didn't believe him. So he gave her the slip and burst into my morning council meeting and informed me that you needed rescuing."

Merlin burst out laughing.

"Yes," said Arthur, wryly. "He reminds me of someone. Can't think who."

"He fights like you do."

"Oh, great, I'm the best warrior in the land and you think I fight like a small boy."

"Yep. All flourish and showing off."

"I nearly lost you, Merlin."

The sudden seriousness of Arthur's voice brought Merlin up short. He was still lightheaded and weak, but the look Arthur gave him filled him with hope.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin.

"I couldn't have…. To lose Gwen was bad enough. To lose you…."

"But you didn't. I'm here. And we're going to make things right."

Arthur gave him an odd sort of look, and patted him on the shoulder. "If you say so."

"First of all, you can help me get out of bed."

"I'm not your servant, Merlin," said Arthur.

"I know." With huge effort, Merlin pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. They looked more spindly and feeble than ever, poking out of the bottom of his nightshirt, all pale and puny. Apparently living on nothing but magical energy for a few weeks really didn't do one's muscle tone any good.

"Right," he said, determinedly. "One, two, three-"

Merlin surged to his feet, his head span and he would have fallen flat on his face if Arthur hadn't caught him.

"Woah, steady!" Arthur's arm was strong and warm, bracing Merlin's back, his hand firm on Merlin's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Suddenly Arthur was very, very close. Merlin could feel the puff of his breath on his cheek, smell the clean, outdoorsy scent of his hair. Merlin was still a bit woozy and it was that, surely that, which made him turn his head just a fraction of an inch, lean in and press his lips firmly against Arthur's.

Arthur made no protest. He wrapped his arms around Merlin tighter still, and kissed him back.

They were still kissing a few moments later, when there was a knock on the door. Fortunately Arthur had enough wits remaining to lower Merlin gently to the bed before he shouted, "Come in!"

Merlin was in a daze, staring at Arthur's face, oblivious as the door swung open.

"I've brought your medicine," Gaius said.

"Oh! Um, thanks." Merlin beamed at him.

"Well," said Gaius. "You do look a lot better, I must say."

"Thanks," said Merlin. "I feel it."

"Must be the soup," said Arthur.

*

Slowly over the next few days, Merlin regained his strength. Arthur spent a lot of time with him, especially in the evenings, when his duties were mostly done with. He would slouch in the chair at Merlin's bedside, help himself to whatever fruit or sweetmeats Gwen had left that day, and they would talk.

Sometimes there was kissing, affectionate pats and punches and long, lingering looks. They didn't talk about that. Merlin didn't want to tempt fate and Arthur… well, Arthur just didn't talk about things like that unless Merlin bullied him into it. And Merlin wasn't about to do that. It was too good to risk spoiling everything.

They talked about Camelot, and Morgana and Mordred, and what Merlin had seen at the Crystal Cave, but only in short bursts because the crystals still sang in Merlin's ears and it caused him more pain than Arthur could bear. They talked about dragons, and magic, and madness, a little.

They talked a good deal of nonsense, too, of course.

They talked until Gaius came in to give Merlin his medicine, and then the buzzing in Merlin's head would fade and sleep would come.

He never heard Arthur leave.

*

Six weeks to the day after Merlin had set out for the Crystal Cave, he managed to leave the Castle. Leaning heavily on Gwaine's arm for the final stretch, he reached the steps, shading his eyes from the blazing sunshine, and enjoyed a moment's victory.

"So," said Gwaine, helping him in a more-or-less dignified collapse to sit on the top step. "How's Arthur?"

"Better," said Merlin. "Quite a lot better, in actual fact. You know. Considering."

"I hate to admit this, but it looks like he really does care for you. He went absolutely frantic when he realised you were missing, called off the stupid quests, even brought Lancelot back. And he took pretty good care of you. I don't think he slept in his bed once all the time you were unconscious."

"And you?"

"Me neither."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Lucy's chambers are closer to yours," said Gwaine with a somewhat sheepish grin.

"Still Lucy, eh? That's some kind of record."

"Possibly. But Arthur-"

"Nice change of subject."

"He blames himself. For you running off like that."

"I wasn't running off. I was on a quest, sort of."

"To discover the future? That's a crazy kind of quest, my friend."

"More to discover the past, really. I think we've been stuck in a sort of historical loop, Gwaine. It's like, history keeps repeating itself, over and over in different ways. Things should move on, develop, grow. But they never do, because we're not getting something right."

Gwaine looked at him, as if checking whether he was joking or not. "Have you told Arthur this?"

"Not in so many words. I just told him I saw a prophecy of the future, where Mordred's king."

"It might be best to keep it that way. Do you know what it is you have to get right?"

"Not exactly. I think it's one of those 'you'll know when you get there' things, you know?"

"Ah," said Gwaine. "One of those."

"So." Merlin nudged Gwaine's shoulder with his own. "Lucy, eh?"

"Yeah," said Gwaine, with a grin. "Lucy."

*

As Merlin recovered he spent more and more time in the herb garden with Galahad. He taught the boy the names of the plants and how to pick them; which parts were useful for what purpose, how to prepare them for drying. Sometimes Arthur came and watched them.

Later, Merlin might take Galahad to the training field to watch the Knights. When he grew up, Galahad said, he was going to be a Knight himself, every bit as good as Arthur and the others.

He would call his first sword magic, he said, for Merlin.

*

Merlin knew that Arthur was quietly preparing his army for war, although they never discussed it. Merlin had tried, early on, to persuade Arthur that a peaceful solution might be better. But war was one thing Arthur understood, and he couldn't bring himself to turn his back on it, not when there was a threat like Morgana just around the corner. So Arthur's Knights were busy, training men and improving Camelot's defences, all thoughts of Arthur's quest long since forgotten. Lancelot had rejoined their numbers. He and Gwen lived humbly in her old house. Gwen told Merlin they had married in Ealdor, and still kept a home there which they hoped to return to in peaceful times. Merlin liked that idea. He still worried about his mother and knowing Lancelot would be there to care for her was a huge comfort.

If they all survived that long.

Merlin could walk to the Lower Town and back by himself now, although it exhausted him for hours afterwards. He was just waking from a long nap after one such excursion when Arthur came to see him.

"It's the middle of the afternoon," said Merlin, yawning. "Shouldn't you be decreeing something, or passing judgement, or complaining about the levels in the grain stores?"

"Elyan just got back from the east. There is an army gathering near the Eastern border."

"Morgana? So soon?"

"They don't bear her flag. They ride in green livery, with a double-headed eagle emblazoned on it. They say they ride for Mordred."

Merlin scrabbled his way out of bed, looking around for his coat. "I must go."

"Go where?"

"It can't come to this. I have to find Mordred and stop him."

"You have to _what_?!"

"I have to find Mordred and stop the attack." Merlin found his coat and headed for the door, but Arthur caught him and stopped him easily, twisting Merlin's arm up his back.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Arthur. "I'm not going to lose you again."

Merlin struggled as fiercely as he could. "I'm not. Let me go!"

"Make me. If you can get out of this room you're free to go. Go on. Try."

Merlin twisted this way and that, bit Arthur's hand so hard he yelled and finally broke free, only for Arthur to tackle him when he was two paces from the door, spin him around and toss him on the bed.

There Arthur pinned him, sitting astride him, holding Merlin's hands firmly above his head.

"Stop it, Merlin," Arthur said. "You're not going anywhere."

"I could use magic," said Merlin, gasping for breath.

"Could you?" said Arthur.

The question hung heavy in the room. Merlin's heart fluttered, his breath so short, his limbs trembling. He felt weak, so weak, and yet….

 _Fléoge._

The quill on Merlin's desk drifted up into the air. Merlin smiled. It was easy. As easy as ever.

He pulled the quill towards Arthur, flipped it and tickled Arthur's neck with it, just below the ear where he was embarrassingly ticklish.

"Merlin! Stop that!" Arthur twitched and laughed and batted at the feather, still holding Merlin down with one hand. His weight, bearing down on Merlin's hips, was reassuring. So reassuring, in fact, that it wasn't just Merlin's magic that was all perked up.

Merlin let the quill drop, grinning triumphantly up at his captor.

Arthur's laughter subsided into a soft smile. "You know your eyes glow gold when you do that?"

"Famous for it," Merlin said.

"If you try to fight Mordred now, he'll defeat you. However strong your magic, your body's weak. He has an entire army at his disposal. I can't let that happen, Merlin. Not just for selfish reasons, either - you're Camelot's biggest asset in this war. Like every other asset, we must plan how to use your power to the best advantage, and I'm pretty sure you running in alone to pick a fight with Mordred isn't the best way, okay?"

Merlin had to concede the point.

Arthur shifted about on Merlin's hips. "You're so bony."

Merlin looked down. "Not the only one."

"What? Oh. Merlin!"

Merlin grinned, and Arthur glared at him, and it felt so much like old times that Merlin forgot, for a moment, and reached out to touch Arthur's face.

"Arthur…. I've been thinking."

"Oh God. Not _now_ , Merlin." Arthur leaned down and kissed him.

Suddenly the full length of Arthur's body was pressing into Merlin's, and Arthur's tongue was edging into his mouth. They ground together. Things were going very nicely, until Merlin had a coughing fit and Arthur sprang away as if he'd dealt him some grievous accidental harm.

"I'm all right," Merlin panted.

"You're still recovering. I shouldn't…."

"Come here."

Arthur gave him a suspicious look.

"I won't break. Come here."

Cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal, Arthur sat down on the edge of Merlin's bed. "Perhaps when you're well enough to come to my bed," he said. "It's bigger and there's more pillows."

"I don't need pillows, dollophead. Come _here_."

Merlin coaxed Arthur down to kiss him again, slow and tender. He teased Arthur's lips with the tip of his tongue, ran his fingers through Arthur's hair, settling at the sensitive spot at his nape, the spot that made Arthur shiver.

Arthur lay beside Merlin - no mean feat because the bed was very narrow, but they managed it, pressed up close but this time with Merlin sprawled over Arthur, giving him room to breathe. For a long time they kissed and stroked the innocent places, until Merlin grew impatient, and stroked some less innocent places that made Arthur's eyes close, all crinkly and scrunched up, a grin on his face.

When Merlin wrapped his fingers around Arthur's cock, all hot and stiff, he did it in slow motion, one finger at a time, relishing every single second. He'd thought about this. Of course he had. He'd _remembered_ this. He'd been careful not to want it for so long and now-

"Oh God, Merlin. I've missed you so much. When you get better I'll-"

"You'd better not wait until I get better," Merlin said. "Come on."

He pulled Arthur's hand under his night-shirt, and gasped when Arthur found his balls, then his erection; swiped his thumb over the tip of Merlin's cock and started very carefully to stroke.

Merlin didn't last long. He came fast and messily all over his shirt and Arthur's hand, and didn't care when Arthur laughed at him for it because it just felt so, so good.

"It's not my fault," he said, happily. "I haven't come for weeks. It builds up."

"No," said Arthur. "The problem is you have no restraint."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," said Arthur, smugly.

A few short, wrist-flicking minutes later, and Merlin introduced Arthur into the world of no-restraint with great efficiency.

Afterwards Merlin made a vague sort of effort to get them both cleaned up, but Arthur wouldn't have it. He slid into bed with Merlin, not complaining when Merlin curled into his side, arms and legs sprawled lazily over Arthur's languid body.

"This feels far better than I am willing to admit," said Arthur, his thumb rubbing circles into Merlin's shoulder.

"Good," said Merlin.

"I missed it. There. I admitted it."

"Me too."

"You had Gwaine."

Merlin thought about making some kind of quip, perhaps along the lines of ' _everybody had Gwaine_ ', something light and foolish and not true that would trip of the tongue and let them both laugh it off. But he didn't. "That's different. It's not this. Nothing's been this."

"No. That's true." Arthur frowned.

Merlin kissed Arthur's neck and said, "I understand, you know. One day you'll have to marry and produce an heir. When it happens, I'll understand. I won't get in the way. But until then, if you can behave yourself for a while and not be a stubborn ass…."

"I'm never going to marry, Merlin."

"You have to. You need an heir."

"So? You don't have to get married to have an heir."

"You do if you don't want a lot of big rows about succession. That was one of the… that's something I've heard happens. Sometimes. In some… places."

"There can always be rows about succession. Why do you think father took so much time to get the people to believe in me as their champion?"

"Yes, but… it's important, Arthur. I met Morgana. That day in the forest, when you got your so-called epiphany."

"You didn't mention it," said Arthur, surprised.

"I had other things to worry about. Anyway, she said she'd won because without Gwen you wouldn't produce an heir. If there's any question-"

"Stop it," Arthur said. "Look, I'll probably never say this again, so make the most of it, all right? I don't want anyone else. I only want you. Seeing as you're a bony skinny warlock and neither of us has children, that means I'll choose my heir when the time comes. Morgana has nothing to do with it. Heaven help me, I love you, Merlin."

Merlin stared at him. Swallowed hard. Stared again.

"If you can't make your mouth talk, Merlin, do something useful with it."

Merlin slid down the bed, and did.

*

Much later, Merlin nuzzled Arthur's right ear, where the quill had attacked, and whispered, "I love you, too."

"Of course you do, Merlin. Now go to sleep."

But Merlin stayed awake for ages, watching Arthur smile.

*

While Arthur built his battle plan, Merlin searched for peace.

His reasoning was simple: if Arthur didn't engage in battle with Mordred and Morgana, he couldn't lose, he couldn't die, and all the while he lived, the throne of Camelot was surely his.

The only way to make that happen, though, was to put something in the way. Arthur had seen the size of Mordred's army and was quietly confident that he outnumbered them in men, in weapons, and in skill. He could think of no reason that they could not win. He knew that Merlin was ten times the sorcerer even Mordred and Morgana combined could be, and Merlin's strength was growing every day.

By day, Merlin let Arthur push his counters around a table, devise battle plans and flanking strategies; let him drill his Knights and soldiers in the savage skills they'd need.

By night, Merlin ran his fingers through Arthur's golden hair, and made his own plans.

The day came that Arthur decided the time was right, and his army marched to the East. His scouts detected Mordred's army five miles south of the border, gathering supplies.

The night that Arthur's army reached what was once Cenred's kingdom, Merlin disappeared.

*

  
He'd sensed Mordred from several leagues away; he didn't shield his magic and that presence that Merlin had first sensed in the square at Camelot years ago shone as bright as ever. He wasn't riding with Morgana's army; he'd left that to her. Merlin made short work of the distance with Kilgharrah's help. Set down at a distance he hoped was safe, and crept through the trees, cursing the sharp incline that stole his breath and made his chest hurt. He found Mordred standing in the centre of a circle of stones. He was chanting. Strengthening his warriors for the battle to come.

~ _You can stop hiding, Emrys. I know you're there._ ~

Merlin spoke out loud, calling across the fifty paces between himself and the stones. "Do you know why?"

 _~You think you've come to kill me. But you're wrong.~_

Merlin felt the wave of magic long before it hit. He deflected it with a careless flick of his wrist, and strode forwards.

"Camelot will never be yours, Mordred. Arthur will unite all of Albion and a new world will come. A world of magic and peace, where thought and invention can flourish."

 _~You are no friend to magic. You have been too long at Arthur's side. Your love for him corrupted you long ago.~_

Merlin reached the stones. They hummed with subtle power, benign. Mordred stood with arms outstretched, eyes closed.

"Like Morgana's love for Morgause corrupted her? Or was it you?"

 _~Morgana will rule at my side. She understands. We will bring back a realm of magic together. The prophecies are clear, Emrys. Your days are coming to a close.~_

"I'm standing right here. Talk to me with your voice or not at all."

Mordred's eyes flickered open. The man looked no less sinister than he had as a child; he stared, beautiful and dreadful, and said, "And what would you have me say?"

"The truth would be a start. You don't know anything about the prophecies, do you? Only what the druids and Morgana have told you. How do you know they're not lies?"

Mordred's eyes narrowed.

"The druids wouldn't have led you so very far astray," Merlin continued. "So I can only assume this current bit of nonsense is down to Morgana. In which case, you are on very shaky ground, my friend. Her visions are anything but accurate. I've changed her futures many times. And I will change this one, too."

"No!"

"You know the only true way to the future, don't you? But that power isn't yours, is it? You couldn't handle the Crystal of Neahtid and you certainly couldn't handle the Crystal Cave."

Mordred's astonishment and greed were instant and tangible. Merlin had to be careful not to smile.

"The Crystal Cave?" Mordred's voice was hungry.

"Oh, have you found it?" Merlin kept his voice light, taunting.

"Of course not. It doesn't exist. It's a fairy story, a myth. Only fragments remain, and Morgana says-"

"Not a myth. A place. A very real place. Where magic began and the future and the past can be seen. A place where you and I belong."

There was a pause.

"Why are you telling me this?" said Mordred eventually, suspicious.

"Because your magic is a hundred times greater than Morgana's. Because you deserve to know the truth. To see the prophecies yourself. How can you trust her, Mordred? How many people has she betrayed?"

"Morgana wouldn't hurt me. I'm different. She's always cared for me. We have a bond."

Merlin shrugged. "The old Morgana had bonds with lots of people. But since Morgause…"

A flicker of doubt crossed Mordred's face.

"But it's up to you," Merlin said. "If you prefer to die here, with her, because of her lies…."

He let Mordred flounder for a moment, his loyalty flailing wildly.

"The birth of magic itself," Merlin whispered.

Mordred licked his lips, gazed hungrily at Merlin with his odd, other-worldly eyes and said, "Take me there, Emrys."

*

The ride was longer than Merlin would have liked; he worried alternately about whether the battle out on the plains had started, and whether Mordred could sense his fear. But Mordred rode on, unreadable and calm.

When they came close, the crystals called to Merlin, sang to his heart and mind and magic. If Mordred heard them, he made no sign.

"This is as far as the horses can go," Merlin said as they reached the head of the valley of the fallen kings.

Mordred silently dismounted, and followed Merlin into the valley. He paused for a moment when the magic hit, and Merlin knew he'd felt that, at least. He could see it shuddering through Mordred's body; old primal magic jarring with his own.

Merlin pressed on.

He felt it in his toes first, then his fingers. A creeping numbness, cool and seductive, offering calm and peace. But Merlin resisted. He no longer relished the peace of living crystal; his heart yearned for Arthur and Camelot and a future of their own making.

"Come here." He gestured for Mordred to follow, and entered the cave.

Mordred's eyes went round as saucers as he took in the beauty of the Crystal Cave. He raised his arms and breathed in deep, and whispered words of the old religion, a welcoming of visions.

 _~Bind~_ , Merlin whispered.

Mordred heard him, felt him, Merlin's power whipping around him in circles, whisking sand and dirt and crystal dust into a whirlwind with him at the centre.

Then Merlin sang.

His voice filled the cave and made the crystals chime; he drew power not from himself but from the ancient magic all around him. He wrapped Mordred in a cloak of power, ice and rock and watched his enemy surrender; not to Merlin but to a magic older than time, deeper than oceans, colder than glaciers. Crystal fragments crackled into life, springing from Mordred's soul and skin and holding him in a single moment: now. Then. Then.

The cold filled Merlin, too, and he took one last look at Mordred, trapped in crystal for all time, before he walked away.

The entrance must have collapsed. In years to come, anyone who came looking to find the cave would discover nothing but boulder and moss and trees. Would hear nothing but a distant sound of bells.

*

Kilgharrah waited beyond the valley of the kings, and took Merlin swiftly to the plain where Arthur was preparing her forces for battle. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side, where Arthur muttered a curt, "I'll deal with you later," while the wild relief in his eyes told a very different story.

"Mordred's gone," Merlin said. "There's just Morgana to deal with now. I'll be back soon."

"I'm coming with you," Arthur said.

Merlin considered arguing with him for maybe half a second, then grinned and said, "Okay."

*

Merlin could feel the hesitation in her magic long before he could see her. She knew that Mordred was gone.

As soon as Merlin saw her face, he realised she'd foreseen this, as well.

The crystals had been clear on this, and the vision did not fade. The battle Merlin longed to avoid would rage for hours, Morgana's army as determined as it was outnumbered. Fighting savagely, with no regard for loss or honour, fighting on even though their cause was lost, led by Morgana's bitter, insane drive for vengeance. Arthur's army would have to slaughter every man before victory could be called, and for every man they took, they risked one of Arthur's own.

They risked _Arthur_.

The only way to stop it was to stop the witch who drove them.

Merlin reached for Morgana's magic, but she found him first. He fought off flame and ice and raw, inhuman power, until they stood together, face to face, with Arthur at his side.

Merlin fell to his knees, magic drained. He was still weak, and imprisoning Mordred had taken its toll. He closed his eyes, tugged in great warm gulps of air, bid his muscles to stop shaking, his heart to work, his magic to regroup and flow.

"You can't stop this, Merlin," Morgana said.

"No," said Arthur. "But I can."

Swords clashed, and Merlin screamed out, "No!"

He called on power he did not have, reached out his hand-

\- and fell.

He fell for miles, for years, forever. And then he stopped. He breathed, or something like it. Consciousness returned, his hearbeat strong, his magic back. He healed.

He felt the flow of water across his face, a mountain stream? No, a lake.

The Lake.

 _Merlin._

"Freya?"

"Open your eyes."

He could see her through the water, clear as day. She reached out her hand; he took it and let her lead him to the shore.

Arthur and Morgana stood there, Arthur's sword-point at Morgana's throat.

"You have a choice, Merlin, as to how this ends."

"A choice? I don't understand."

"To let time turn again or shoot true. You made this moment, Merlin. Take it wisely."

Merlin looked at Arthur's face; his expression was twisted with grief and anger.

"Whether to let him kill her? She deserves it. She'd destroy him in an instant if she could."

Freya said nothing.

"I still remember the first time I saw her," Merlin said. "She was so beautiful. The most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And she was kind."

The breeze ruffled the surface of the lake, making tiny waves.

He spoke softly: "Can she ever be like that again?"

"Avalon can heal many wounds," said Freya. "The time has come, Merlin. Choose."

Merlin reached out his hand, and used magic to shatter Arthur's sword.

"Take her," he said.

*

He watched Freya call the boat, and lay Morgana in it, as he had seen Arthur laid so many times in the crystals. Morgana's sleeping face had a look of peace to it. She breathed still, chest rising and falling in rhythm with the rocking of the boat.

"Will I see you again?" Merlin asked Freya, reluctant to leave go of her hand.

"Not for a long, long time, I hope. You have much to do. Go. Make of Arthur everything he truly can be. Be happy, Merlin. You deserve it."

With a single kiss and a touch of skin like water, she was gone.

*

Arthur joined him at the water's edge - it might have been a moment later or an hour, Merlin couldn't tell - and wordlessly tugged Merlin to him, held him hard against his chest. Only when Merlin complained about the taste of armour and his inability to breathe did Arthur let him go.

Then Arthur coughed a little awkwardly, and blushed. "You're an idiot," he said. "If you go off on your own like that again I'll chain you up in the dungeons where you belong."

"If you say so." Merlin grinned happily. "Shall we start walking, or do you want to stay here and yell at me until it gets dark?"

"Come on, then."

They found the path through the woods and set off.

"Are you okay?" said Merlin, after a while. "About Morgana, and everything. I know you cared for her, once."

"Very much. But that Morgana died a long time ago. I think this was the right way. She looked…. At peace."

Merlin nodded.

"It's a heavy price to pay," Arthur continued. "But when you think of all the lives we saved, all the good we can do in a peaceful land…."

"A peaceful land where magic is free?"

"If you say so, Merlin."

Merlin nudged Arthur's shoulder with his own, to which Arthur looked suitably outraged for a moment, before his face broke into a grin.

They trundled on a little further, then Arthur said, "I've been thinking about what you said, Merlin, about needing an heir."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. In fact, I've had a particularly cunning idea. And you're going to like it."

"Me? Like one of your ideas? That would be a first."

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin."

As it happened, Arthur was absolutely right.


	6. Epilogue

Taliesyn found Kilgharrah basking in the sun on a low, flat rock just outside his cave. He was dangling his tail over the edge, waving it in warm air as a human might paddle their feet in a pool of water.

"The world is different today, old friend," said Taliesyn.

"Yes. It would appear that things have become unpredictable again." Kilgharrah reached his neck to the sky in a glorious stretch.

"Arthur is ready to take the throne, treaties are being signed all over Albion. The ban on magic is already lifted."

"I can feel it, Taliesyn. It's already seeping through my scales to make my old bones sing again."

"I was at Camelot this very day for a very solemn ceremony to name Arthur's heir."

"Yes. That one was a surprise."

"It certainly was!" said Taliesyn. "Galahad! I must say the boy looks the part. He's taking his duties very seriously."

"As well he might. He's got quite a task ahead of him, I'd say."

"Will it work this time, do you think? Will Merlin and Arthur succeed in making Albion all it could be? Will Galahad follow Arthur's reign with another just as great?"

"Well," Kilgharrah said. "It's all so new. There's no way of knowing now, is there? I suppose we'll just have to wait and see." And something like a smile curled his ancient, scaly lips.

 _~Fin~_   



End file.
